


Façades

by Sashimeme



Category: Noli Me Tangere & Related Works - José Rizal
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, M/M, Slow Burn, there was an attempt to be canon compliant but i failed miserably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2020-09-26 13:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20390605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashimeme/pseuds/Sashimeme
Summary: Tadeo had no goals for himself, no drive, no dreams, and he had no problem making this clear to everyone around him. Yet somehow, he found himself caught up in the larger-than-life ambitions of a certain association behind the Castilian Academy project, and under the spell of Macaraig, the association’s charming leader.





	1. As it should be

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a purely self-indulgent fic but i fucked up. i fucked up real bad y'all  
i wanna give a special shout-out to my friends, especially walt (@PrinsipeNgPoot) and lei (no ao3 oof), who have been super supportive of my fic!! i hope i make you all proud ♡

“And then, as I was minding my own business, I saw the guy throw all the bottles on the table to the guy! Everyone could smell the wine all the way from the outside!”

Tadeo and Juanito were howling with laughter as they walked along the street, the midday sun shining on them to emphasize their dewy, youthful faces. With the two students looking so joyful and carefree, no one could tell right away that they were supposed to be at school and slaving their days away. 

This, Tadeo always swore to himself, was the kind of life he wanted to have for the rest of his life: reveling in the cheery and lively atmosphere with the people around him, talking about everything and anything that his mind can come up with, and ignoring all the responsibilities that loomed behind him. It was a very simple life, but it brought him so much joy. He couldn't care less about the events that took place outside of his circle.

"I swear, that restaurant is just so lively at night!" Tadeo continued. "We should eat there later, right after this!"

"Eat again?" Juanito guffawed. "You really are a pig! I don't know how you eat so much but gain so little weight."

"That's why you gotta cut classes more often with me!" Tadeo said, lifting his hands up to puff out his chest in confidence. "You get to walk around and explore Manila instead of sitting on your butt for hours absorbing nothing."

Juanito gasped as his droopy eyes sparkled, amazed from Tadeo's wisdom. "You're absolutely right! We should go!"

The two students continued to chat merrily, as Tadeo resumed his fascinating testimony, and they strode past the intersection in excitement. As soon as they crossed, Juanito's pace began to slow down, making Tadeo slow down as well and look back at his now upset friend.

"Oh…" Juanito said, his smile now curving downwards. "Sorry. I forgot I have to leave soon."

"Ha? For what?"

"Castilian Academy matters." Juanito sighed, slumping his shoulders. "Macaraig is just going to give us a weekly update. He's already caught on that I've been absent for weeks, so I have to be there or he'll kick me out of the group."

Tadeo was rolling his eyes as he spoke. "Here you are, talking about that stupid project again," he groaned as he walked past the smelly street stalls. "Seriously, those guys have been working you to death ever since. Are they trying to outmatch the catedraticos when it comes to being a pain in the ass?"

"I'm sorry, Macaraig is just difficult to say no to! You know his reputation precedes him in the University, so who knows what will happen if I don't do what he says? I won't be recognized as one of the founders once this school does get created."

Indeed, Tadeo had heard of Macaraig plenty of times from his schoolmates, along with the other members who were also rooting for the establishment of a Castilian Academy; however, he did not always hear them be talked about in a positive light. In fact, many of his schoolmates were against the idea for reasons Tadeo could not bother to remember. All Tadeo knew was that those guys were lunatics, trying to add more work on top of the schoolwork they already had. That was enough for him to refuse to make any form of contact with them when he first found out about the insurrection of such an idea, only relying on secondary sources to tell him who these guys were or what they were about.

"So what? It's not like he's going to have you killed."

"That's true, but...!" Juanito tried to argue, but when he found no words coming out of his mouth, his voice fell into silence.

"Besides, why do you want to be associated with these guys anyway?" Tadeo continued to probe his friend in an attempt to confuse him. "After all, you are working with a bunch of nobodies for the most part, aren't you? Nobodies who are going against the tide."

"That’s the beauty of it, isn't it?” Juanito grinned. "Going against the tide really is the best way to get recognition these days! It's just like how it is in Europe!"

"Wow, have you lost your mind?" Tadeo cackled in response. "This isn't Europe, my friend, we live in the Philippines. You don't stand out from the crowd unless you're at the center of an execution."

Tadeo could tell Juanito's shoulders stiffened as he talked, but his friend only laughed nervously.

"Come on, that's never going to happen to me! I am not like those people at all."

Tadeo hummed disinterestedly and, as he thought of his next move, leaned in and peered into Juanito's face.

"...And what about them? What if they turn out to be criminals or impostors?"

"No way!" Juanito laughed at the ridiculous suggestion that his friend just made, but when Tadeo stopped walking and gave him an unnaturally grave stare, his grin disappeared. "Well, there is no way, right?"

A gleam of mischief shone in Tadeo's eyes and he could not help but let his lips quirk into a lopsided smile. Although Juanito liked to show himself off as a mestizo with much bravado to show, he was an exceptionally gullible person, making him no different from everyone else Tadeo had met in Manila. However, Tadeo knew better than to take the bait so he quickly turned away and lazily inspected his fingernails.

"You know, yeah, you’re right, there is no way, don't worry about it,” he blabbered quickly. “It's not a big deal. I'm sure it's just old news by now."

"No, Tadeo, please!" Juanito clasped his hands. "I want to hear it!"

The words echoed in Tadeo's ears like a gong that had just been struck. Those four desperate, pleading, enticing words were all he needed to begin constructing a story in his head. He sighed deeply, as if to show annoyance, despite being more than eager to humor his needy friend.

"Well… what is there to say? We can start with the odd one out in the group, that Sandoval guy," he started to elaborate. "He only arrived in the Philippines very recently and now he's suddenly working with you." 

Juanito shrugged. "Everyone says he has the soul to support the project."

"But Spaniards have no souls!" Tadeo laughed. "Believe me, he may be acting all nice and supportive but that's just because he's redeeming himself from his sins back in Madrid. Why else would he need to finish his studies here, if not because... he could not finish it back there. As if he was kicked out for some reason... perhaps of some heinous crime..."

Tadeo was proud of the dramatic pauses he made at that statement, and the eerie tone he put in his voice, because that seemed to have shaken something in Juanito. 

"That does sound possible..." he muttered, his lips turning pale. "But Sandoval, he's--" 

"Just like every other Spaniard." Tadeo dismissed Juanito's butting in with a wave of his hand, repeating his response multiple times to prove his point. He even looked away for a while in a fit of arrogance, but when he looked back, Juanito looked only a little dejected, so he continued to talk. "Hm, what else... And then you have Isagani, that son of a priest!"

"You're lying this time!" Juanito pointed at Tadeo accusingly, his voice cracking. "I've heard that rumor so many times and it's not true!"

"Oh really? Have you ever seen how Father Florentino cares for Isagani?" Tadeo had no concrete examples for this, either, but he still kept going. "Not even my own uncle would care for me like that! And they have very similar speech patterns and complexion, and they have the same bulb-like nose. I must say it's not going to sound good if one of the members of the Association is found to be a son of a former indio priest."

At last, Juanito was able to fall for Tadeo's trap and he held his head, looking completely distraught.

"Ay, Tadeo, you may be right again…!"

“So there you have it,” Tadeo said, lifting his chin up in sweet victory. "A criminal, an illegitimate son of a friar, and who knows what secrets everyone else may be hiding? How much graver could the crimes get, I wonder—"

"I get it, I get it!" Juanito cried out to cut off Tadeo. "Oh God, I should never have joined!" 

Despite seeing the horrified look on his friend's face, Tadeo rubbed his hands together in delight. He could already smell the bulalo he had been craving for from blocks away, and he repeated again his desire to take him to the restaurant. To Tadeo's dismay, a cloud of confusion resided over Juanito's face.

"But…" Juanito bit his lip. "But we are so close to getting the petition approved, so it's not like I'll be working with them forever, so I can just--"

"Ay, my god, Pelaez!" Tadeo groaned and slapped his palms on his face, frustrated from Juanito’s stubbornness. "Just give it up already!"

"I'm sorry, alright?" He yelled back. "It's hard to explain! When you say things like that, I would normally agree with you, but when I'm with them, it's like all that matters is the project, and how this might have a chance to succeed…"

Tadeo could only scrunch his nose in disgust as Juanito went off on a tangent, speaking a language Tadeo could never understand. Juanito picked up on this gesture of his and cut off his ramblings.

"And especially with Sandoval being all--- Ah, what am I saying? Of course you won't understand, since you're not in the Association! But believe me, Tadeo, you would understand my predicament when you are… with them…"

When Tadeo noticed how Juanito's voice slowly trailed off as he finished his sentence, and how his signature sly grin began to form once again on his face, he immediately stepped back from him, creating distance between them.

"No…" Tadeo began waving his hands frantically. "No, Juanito, don't you dare--"

"But yes!" He replied with a bigger grin and hopped towards him, prompting Tadeo to put his hand up in defense. "Oh, I can't believe I didn't think of doing this before. You must join me!"

Tadeo wished that Juanito had stayed stupid enough to not invite him to that Association he did not want to be associated with, but it seemed that even that can be wistful thinking after all. 

"Hey, hey, what about my signature?" Tadeo asked, remembering a time he saw a schoolmate pass around a petition related to the Castilian Academy project. "That's all you need from me, right? Here, just give me a pen and then I'll finally sign--"

"No, Tadeo, I want you to work with me!" Juanito then grabbed his forearm and began dragging him, much to Tadeo's chagrin. 

"I don't want to!" He could almost feel his arm detach from his body during the struggle.

"Please, Tadeo!" Juanito stopped walking to look back at him with pleading eyes. "I feel so lonely when I'm with them and they start to speak in different tongues!"

"Then don't be with them!" Tadeo released himself from Juanito in one aggressive shrug of his shoulder. "Besides, I don't think they'll accept a guy like me."

"Oh, they will, they will." Juanito grinned. "I'll make sure you get in. I'm one of the original members of the Association, so they have to listen to me!"

Tadeo did not know if he could believe Juanito when he said that. "I still don't want to," he firmly replied with a frown, turning his back to Juanito and crossing his arms like a stubborn child. He thought the conversation was over, but he saw Juanito's side profile creep up from the corner of his eye, still carrying that same grin that meant nothing but trouble.

"Macaraig usually treats us to dinner every other week, by the way." His grin got wider. "He also lets you borrow money from him with no interest, as long as you're nice to him."

Tadeo hesitated for a bit, and he slowly turned his head to look at Juanito in the eye again. "...Money with no interest, you say?"

His question was greeted with enthusiastic nods. At this point, Tadeo just wanted Juanito to stop bothering him. It would be more troublesome and tiring for him to continue saying no, and Tadeo made sure to show this with a heaving sigh before speaking again.

"I guess I won't lose anything if I don't go--"

"That's what I want to hear!" Juanito cried out excitedly as he grabbed Tadeo's wrist and pulled him away from where they were supposed to go, making him nearly trip as he was dragged. 

"Oy--! Juanito, stop! I don't wanna run!" He cried out, but Juanito refused to slow down. All Tadeo could do was try to keep up as he got dragged away, leaving him helpless in what was to become of his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this fic is going to be many firsts for me: my first multi-chapter fic, first tacaraig fic on AO3 and also the first fic ive ever posted online (ang dami kong disclaimer ano) so im really scared HAHAHAHA  
will try to update this every week--i have most of the chapters laid out already so it's just a matter of polishing it lol


	2. The Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i clowned myself real good saying i will post this chapter within a week when it took me an entire month to get back to this skksksk buT IT IS HERE NOW and that's all that matters

Tadeo and Juanito stood in front of the entrance of Macaraig’s house. The wide, dark wooden door cast a shadow over the two students, with only its dirty gold handles serving as the only bright thing their eyes could see in front of them. He could hear muffled voices of laughter and yelling all the way from the floor above him, and he started to wonder what kind of rituals were going on behind that door.

“Don’t worry, Tadeo, it will be fine.” Juanito said after noticing the aghast look on Tadeo’s face. “They will welcome you with open arms, believe me!”

Tadeo’s body was still stiff, but Juanito continued on, ignorant of his friend's state. He grabbed the handles of the door and pushed the door open, revealing to him a spacious entryway, with machuca tiles adorning the path leading up to the flight of stairs. It seemed… plain enough. Definitely had fresher air than most of the cramped zaguan he had been to, which still smelled like dust and hidden-away horses.

“Alright… Nothing strange here…” he said to keep his head in place. He tried not to mind the fact that there was a carriage parked inside, thus making it known the owner of the house was just right around the corner.

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” Juanito grinned at him. “Anyway, I think everyone is upstairs, so let's go!" He pulled him by the wrist and ran up the stairs, making Tadeo nearly trip on the steps.

“Hey, watch it, I’m going to--!” Tadeo was about to protest until they finally made it to the bright main floor, shutting his eyes since he made the mistake of looking right at an open window upon making it up the stairs. All he heard was joyous laughing and greetings that could make anyone go insane, and he felt warmer air envelope him.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen!” Juanito yelled amidst the noise, and the noise greeted him cheerfully. Tadeo, shocked at the warm welcome Juanito received, opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the new environment he was now in.

The entire floor was embellished from corner to corner with all sorts of decorative pieces and paintings leaning against the white panel walls. In fact, it might as well be glowing gold because of the glimmer coming from the light fixtures and fine china on display in the cabinets. Today could just be like any other day, but the way the house was furnished made Tadeo believe there was some kind of huge feast happening that he did not hear about.

“Hoy, Pelaez! Join us, we’re playing cards!” One of them yelled from the table at the corner. Juanito laughed, clearly smitten from the youthful energy radiating in the room.

“Later, later! I have to introduce my friend here to Macaraig. Is he home?”

“He’s upstairs, in his study."

“Thank you!”

Juanito wasted no time and lightly pushed Tadeo up the wide stairs, with the rambunctious foolery of the students disappearing beneath them. And for once in his life, Tadeo actually felt embarrassed, feeling his death approaching as the silence hit them.

“Most of those guys live in here,” Juanito commented. “Macaraig offered this house to his schoolmates for them to stay in. Very cheap too, I've heard!”

Tadeo looked behind him at the wall hanging above the stairway and saw a painted mural reminiscent of those he would see at Churches, with cherubs lying lazily on fluffy, white clouds, laughing and drinking wine from golden chalices with dribbles at the side of their lips as they all looked down at the staircase from heaven. It was very peculiar, very sickening, and yet very envying.

Soon, they stop in front of a large door with intricate carvings on its borders for design. The other side of the room seemed quiet enough, so Tadeo put his bets that there was nobody inside the room.

“Just keep quiet and follow my lead,” he said. He pushed the door open again with grandiose, revealing to Tadeo three very familiar figures clustered by the desk at the center of the room--personalities that he had only known about from hear-say.

“Good afternoon, everyone--!”

“Pelaez, you're late!” A loud and sharp voice filled the room, coming from a chubby student who was standing at their right. Tadeo knew that one had to be Pecson, the only fat student in the Association.

"And you’re just getting mad at me?" Juanito slapped his hand to his chest for emphasis, and he mentally tallied the heads in the room. "Isagani is late, too!"

"Well, he informed us in advance he could not make it, unlike _some_ people."

“We were just finishing up, anyway, but…" Sandoval, the most foreign-looking man in the room, carefully inspected Tadeo from head to toe. Tadeo patted down his shirt to smoothen the creases as he noticed this. "Who is this?"

“Aha!” Juanito snapped his fingers. “This, gentlemen, is the reason why I am here. Sandoval, Macaraig, Pecson, meet Tadeo. He would like to join the Association, if it pleases you!” Tadeo looked over at the three men staring at him, and eventually found himself locking his eyes with the lone figure that sat behind the desk. It was Macaraig himself, the filthy rich face of the entire Association. If he wanted to make himself look his best in front of anyone he knew at that moment, he had to choose Macaraig. Even if he did mock him one too many times behind his back, Tadeo could not deny the influence he had over the school was phenomenal.

Pecson squinted his eyes at Juanito. “We weren’t looking for new members.”

“Well... You didn't say you were _not_ looking for new members, right?” Juanito snapped his fingers again and winked, amused at his own witty comeback.

“That still doesn’t give you the right to come in here, bring us somebody you just dragged off the street, and then what? You're just gonna tell us to work with him?”

“It’s fine,” Macaraig finally spoke up. “I’ve seen this guy around with Pelaez outside the school. We can trust him.”

"But the process--"

"We don't need it," he said. "Besides, I trust that you two can come up with…" And then Macaraig looked at Sandoval with a curious side-eye, as if he was giving him a signal through his eyes. Sandoval seemed to pick up on this immediately, and he nodded at Pecson, who was just as alert about the silent decision that had just been made. Tadeo, meanwhile, watched in horror at the silent exchange that had just take place in front of him; not even Juanito knew what they just did.

“Alright, then.” Sandoval crossed his arms and leaned against the desk. “What can he bring to the table?” Juanito took a deep breath as he exchanged looks at Tadeo. “Well, to start off, he can help--”

“You’re not Tadeo, are you?” Macaraig asked, leering at Juanito while doing so. “Let him speak.” Juanito flinched and stepped back stiffly, shoving Tadeo towards the trio as he did so. Tadeo felt sweat drops roll down his nape and onto the collar of his shirt. Being put on the spot like this was something Tadeo never enjoyed at all, but of course, he would deem himself a coward for rejecting an opportunity to make an impression.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen, I’m here to entertain any questions you might have!” His voice cracked as he greeted but he still persevered.

“How do you know Pelaez?” Macaraig asked the first question, prompting Tadeo’s mouth to start running off.

“We met on our first day in University, and we kept running into each other ever since.”

And then it was Sandoval’s turn to interrogate. “What do you know about our Association?”

“That you intend to put up a school that will teach Spanish. Also, Juanito Pelaez was very influential in coming up with the idea." Tadeo saw Macaraig’s mouth curve upwards slightly, while Pecson and Sandoval expressed annoyance, rolling their eyes and heaving sighs of disappointment. Juanito snickered from behind him.

"Have you heard of other schools who had the same goals or objectives that we did?" Tadeo gulped at the increasing level of difficulty of these questions, but thankfully he was able to recall one anecdote shared by someone back in his province.

"Ah, there was that one school before with the women in… Malolos…"

"Malabon," Juanito whispered.

"Malabon, actually."

Macaraig brought his hand up to his mouth and muffled his laughter, while Pecson furrowed his eyebrows.

"Malabon?"

"Ah, did I say Malabon? I really meant Malolos!" Tadeo corrected himself once again, kicking his leg back so he would hit Juanito in the shin. The latter exclaimed in pain, which made everyone laugh.

"He doesn't know the women of Malolos, how reassuring!" Pecson cried out.

"So what do you think makes us any different from them?" Macaraig asked, ignoring Pecson's nasty remark. Tadeo needed to win back their affections as soon as possible, so he came up with the best answer he could.

"That… that you will succeed."

The trio were noticeably startled from the rather direct answer that Tadeo gave them.

"An optimist!" Sandoval said with a beaming grin and turned to Pecson, who had put on another pouty frown. "We could always use another one around here."

"Alright, then, humor me this." Pecson crossed his arms over his chest, glaring right at Tadeo. "What is the situation of our educational system here in the University of Santo Tomas?”

"... Ha?”

Tadeo anticipated fulfilling the most gruesome of acts in order to get into this Association. He did not realize this before, but when he walked inside Macaraig’s house, he was ready to be dared to eat live worms, openly mock Father Sibyla near the entrance of the University, or even push a friar into the Pasig River. What he was not prepared for, however, was to go through this damn interrogation portion that was reminiscent of those dreadful graded recitation sessions his schoolmates would always cry about. He very much preferred to eat worms than to answer any of these questions, and he was just lucky he made it this far without failing. Now, it seemed like he could not come up with anything even if he tried.

“Well?”

“The educational system here is…really bad.” Tadeo spluttered. “Those forced recitation stuff the professors make you do? It’s bad and suffocating and… oppressive?”

“You don’t sound sure about what you are saying, Tadeo,” Sandoval commented. Tadeo’s sweaty hands fumbled the hem of his shirt as he glanced at everyone else before him. Truth be told, he was more scared of Pecson and Sandoval than he was with Macaraig, the head of the Association; the latter looked at him with no hint of impatience or frustration, not like those two who resembled demons more than anything. His fingers were interlaced and rested lightly below his chin as he kept his gaze on Tadeo. Tadeo felt even more at ease seeing how calm he looked. He did not even care if Sandoval and Pecson hated what he was saying; if Macaraig liked it, then that was all he needed to keep going. Only the opinions of those on top mattered, after all.

“Of course, I am sure! I even had an encounter with a really terrible professor once… like that… Father Geronimo.” Tadeo guessed his name, as he had forgotten which professor his schoolmate was referring to when he complained about his Physics class one time.

“Oh, yes, he’s a bad one, for sure,” Juanito added, although he had never heard of a Father Geronimo who existed in his life.

“See?” Tadeo lifted his hand up to make gestures as he spoke. “I mean, I’m sure you all know how the friars are like here—”

“I don’t,” Pecson deadpanned.

“—They are always teaching the wrong material from the book, and making us look like fools!” Tadeo finished. “I’d say about four or five other students suffered the same fate I did during that Chemistry class.”

None of them emoted as he told the story, so Tadeo cursed under his breath for his luck.

“What are your thoughts on the friars, then?” Tadeo was already too nerve-wrecked to make a profound opinion, so he shook his head violently and made a hand gesture that looked similar to that of a revolver and “shot” himself; he even winced in disgust while doing so. This delighted everyone in the room, even more so for Pecson, who cackled and even slapped the table so hard that the oil lamp rumbled. Tadeo just hoped that this meant they were warming up to him.

“Ah, wait, we still have one more important question to ask,” Sandoval managed to say as the laughter died down.

“Go on,” Macaraig said, his smile still on his face.

“Tadeo, do you think this academy should even exist in the first place?”

Oh shit. Now this, Tadeo had no idea how to answer. He did not really think much of the relevance of it in the present time. He would typically say, ‘_Well, let people speak the language they want to speak,_’ or answer with a simple ‘_Yes_,’ if he was going to be a smart ass, but he clearly could not say that in this situation. He knew he had to speak as flowery as he imagined them to be.

“You see, I think…” Tadeo slowly spoke, “It is a no-brainer to think that a school like this should exist. Why, it is just a school that would be run by young, aspiring men like you and me. Simple as that. I think it should exist because there is no reason for it not to exist.”

“The friars, Tadeo, the friars,” Pecson warned.

“Who cares about the friars?” Tadeo snapped, garnering him surprised reactions from the students. “Why do they think they have the right to dictate who can and cannot speak it? Language is just a way for us to communicate with each other through a bunch of noises and letters, so if you think about it, they have no business telling us what not to speak. ‘We aren’t allowed’? Well, I say we will be free soon enough, because they will get bored from exploiting us all and leave… Yes, they'll just leave."

Tadeo was convinced that at that point, a spirit of some long-ago, impassioned student possessed his body and spoke for him. He was not even sure if he wholeheartedly agreed or even understood what he had just said. Nevertheless, he hoped to God that he would not have to be asked this again, because he doubted he would remember this stance if ever he would get questioned by them again.

The three men stared at Tadeo with mixed reactions, which made him confused on the consensus. Sandoval had his eyes gazing at the ceiling with his index finger curling on his lips, while Pecson squinted his already narrow eyes at Tadeo. Macaraig, meanwhile, looked at him with his eyebrows raised and his eyes wide open. When Tadeo turned around, Juanito gave him a wide grin and gestured that he did a good job. He did not know what to feel about all of this.

“I like him.” Tadeo looked back and saw Macaraig smiling at him, his fingers interlaced with each other and lying beneath his chin.

“Huh?”

“He’s a good one. He’s in,” he added.

“What?” Pecson scowled.

“Don’t you think it is too brash to just accept him right away? We still need to ask the others if they are willing to accept another member," Sandoval said.

“We could always use another enthusiastic soul, right?" Macaraig turned to Sandoval. "He is not too complicated, but he is not a simpleton, either.”

“I guess?”

Pecson was still frustrated from Macaraig's decision. "But his arguments are so baseless--"

"I'm sorry," Tadeo spoke up, irritated at the sight of these students whom he had just met deciding his fate and his character. "I think there's been a misunderstanding."

"What do you mean?"

He felt something get stuck on his throat. "Juanito is lying. I never said I had an intention in joining. I was thinking maybe I can just be a temporary member or… I just wanted to know what the Association was like."

"Tadeo, what are you doing?" Juanito whispered loudly from behind him. "You said earlier you wanted this!"

"Welcome to the Association," Pecson greeted sardonically. "We don't do that here. You're either with us or you aren't."

"Besides, you've already passed our test," Macaraig added with a smile. "It'd be a shame to see you leave right away, after all that stress we put you through."

"I don't think I'm the person you want," Tadeo said, the hesitation creeping into his voice. “Sorry, I respectfully decline.”

Macaraig sighed lightly. "Alright, I understand…" He stood up from the desk and looked at Tadeo. "So I'll be expecting you tomorrow morning for your assignment."

Tadeo's panic took full control of him right when he finished talking earlier. "Okay."

“Ha?" Everyone's heads snapped at Tadeo due to his sudden change of mind. Macaraig, meanwhile, clasped his hands at his response and grinned cheekily.

"Now that's what I want to hear!" He added he stood up from his desk. "Can’t wait to have you work with us. then!”

"Macaraig…" Pecson spoke up again, his voice taking a low tone as he watched Macaraig walk away from the desk and head towards the doorway. “I’m telling you, we cannot just accept him right away like this…”

Macaraig grasped the doorknob and turned his head slightly towards Pecson’s direction. “It will be fine, trust me. If he betrays us, then it is my fault,” he said, turning around to face everyone in the office. "You may hold me accountable for him, if the occasion arises, but…” And as if to punctuate his sentence, he made eye contact with Tadeo and smiled an unreadable smile. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

The tension in the room seemed to lessen as Macaraig swiftly opened the door, allowing the sound of the noise from downstairs echo in everyone’s ears as he walked out. Everyone stayed still for a few moments before Pecson and Sandoval, after staring at Tadeo for a few seconds, wordlessly left the office at the same time. Juanito was the first to break the silence that had stayed behind.

“So! What do you think, eh, Tadeo?” Juanito headed towards Tadeo and wrapped his arm around his shoulder while laughing, albeit sounding a bit forced. “I told you they would like you! I’m telling you, whatever I say or believe, I make it happen. That is just how we work here!”

“_They?_” Tadeo nervously laughed as he wiped the sweat on his forehead. “What-- what just happened? I think I’m gonna die, I think I’m already dead…!” He shook Juanito’s shoulders back and forth and made whiny noises. “Juanito, you never told me they were that intimidating! What even _are_ they?”

“Now, now, don’t worry.” Juanito patted Tadeo’s back as he escorted him out of the study. “Like I said before, all you have to do is be there. We will handle the rest.”


	3. Lies

Since the day he miraculously got involved in the Castilian Academy affairs, Tadeo had been visiting Macaraig’s house almost every day, usually after a long day of hanging out with his schoolmates and asking—by that, he meant tricking—them to sign the petition on days when he was assigned to do it. On some days he was successful, coming back to the house with a handful of signatures and a mischievous smile on his face. On most days, however, he came back with none, no matter how flowery he made his speech and no matter how deep his voice got as he spoke. Pecson was the first to laugh at him whenever he would arrive at the house empty-handed.

“It gets more and more pointless to ask around the longer you stay here,” Pecson often told him. Tadeo felt like he was supposed to be discouraged and leave the Association, but for reasons unknown, he still stayed. He survived the unnecessary interrogation from that time, so what shame did he have to lose?

On this particular morning, however, Tadeo decided to give it a break and hung out with Juanito and Pecson at the sala. Juanito disclosed to Tadeo that he was actually the first person who got in the project long past its insurrection. The active members of the Castilian Academy—Juanito, Pecson, Isagani, and Macaraig—were the same ones who spearheaded the petition, and Tadeo was given the honor of being the odd one out (Sandoval, Pecson claimed, was someone who forced himself into their affairs sometime in between, and everyone decided to let him because of his harmlessness). Pecson also provided him with other additional information that he needed to know about the Academy, such as how far they had gotten in their plans. His answer: not that far.

“Don’t worry about not being able to catch up on their idealistic notions, by the way,” Juanito said with a laugh, “I swear they are on a whole new level of thinking. It’s like they are all one and the same person, even I cannot keep up!”

“These men love to get high off each other’s ambitions: Sandoval, Isagani, Macaraig…” Pecson noted. “You might want to be careful when you talk about the academy around them. You might just get sucked in, too.”

“Yeah!” Juanito cackled as he slapped Pecson’s back. “That’s why this guy is just never happy for any of us!”

Juanito and Tadeo both laughed while Pecson scowled at them with pout lips. “You joke about it now, but soon you’ll see..." he muttered. "You might even thank me one day.”

"But could you believe you are the fifteenth member of our Association? My god, our family has grown so big!" Juanito put his arms around Tadeo and Pecson, grinning widely at the both of them. 

“Hey, where are the others?” Tadeo looked around the main floor, noticing the missing presence of the other members. 

“I don’t know. Macaraig’s off to a meeting, I think.”

“Is that so…” Tadeo tapped his chin, thinking of a way to pass the time. “By the way, don’t you guys ever think about how weird he is, as a person?”

Juanito looked up at Tadeo with a shocked expression. Pecson furrowed his eyebrows.

“...He is?”

_ Oh my god, these traitors! _ Tadeo laughed in his head. _ Even if they knew him longer than I have, they still took the bait! _

“Well, I mean…” He leaned back in the couch, a smirk forming on his lips as he thought of the Next Best Bullshit He Can Come Up With. “Don’t you think rich people like him have better things to do than to take part in noble activities like this that would benefit so many people? Something is very fishy about him.”

“Hmm, when you put it that way…” Juanito assumed the same thinking position that Tadeo had earlier.

“That’s ridiculous,” an eavesdropping student spat, which made the young men turn towards him. “I have more faith in Macaraig than I do with the Academy. He’s just not that kind of person.”

“I agree!” Another student shouted. “He bought me lunch when I had no allowance!”

“Me, too!”

“Well, everyone has a bad side to them, don’t they?” Tadeo waved his hand dismissively. “Not everything is the way it seems.”

“Not Macaraig,” The loyalist student persisted, “I’d stake my life on it.”

“You can defend Macaraig as much as you want, but that is not going to change who he is,” Tadeo said. “Rich people are still rich people who do whatever they want so they can get even richer. Richer in what sense, you may ask? Well, there’s fame, power, more wealth... For all we know, he is going to drop us all the moment he gets what he needed, and we’ll suffer the consequences while he revels in his dirty aristocracy—”

“Jeez, Tadeo, now you’re making me reconsider my involvement again!” Juanito whined as he grabbed his head with his hands.

“Yeah,” one of the students spoke up defiantly. “What is your problem? As if you are going to gain anything from speaking ill of Macaraig like that. You aren’t even an original member of the Association.”

“Well!” A burst of energy flowed under his veins, as Tadeo adjusted the collar of his shirt and turned towards the uninformed student with a conceited smile. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I am as legitimate as they come. You gentlemen may not know this, but I knew Macaraig way before any of you knew him, so I know he’s a dirty man. In fact, I was the one who offhandedly brought up the idea of the Castilian Academy in the first place.”

Tadeo was completely aware he was treading deep waters as he was speaking. As long as one of these men snitch on him and tell on him, his credibility would be over. The days of falsehood would be long gone, and God knows what would happen if any more intense Association supporters find out. But the piqued interests of everyone around him--all those eyes staring at him--never failed to intoxicate him every time; every confused, intrigued and disgusted face he saw helped him build up the story that he wanted to create for everyone’s amusement, especially his. So Tadeo walked towards the couch near the center of the room, sat down on its arm, and continued talking.

“Don’t you guys even wonder how is it that I managed to get first-hand involvement with the Academy, even when I was not present during the creation of the petition? Because I came up with the idea one day while I was with Macaraig. It was a calm Saturday morning, and I was just complaining to him about how the friars mock us for never pronouncing our words right, so I said, ‘_''_Sus _ , _if they won’t teach us how to speak it, then we’ll teach everyone else, instead!” Of course, that sparked something in him, and he decided to tell his other progressive friends about it. He got a little carried away and went off to make the project without me, without crediting me, but what can you do! All it took was for me to show up in his office, and then he remembered what my role was in its creation! He was really good in keeping his cool about it, I gotta say." 

“That’s horse shit!” A student yelled from the corner of the room.

Everyone else started talking and debating amongst themselves, attempting to recall if they had ever seen Tadeo hang out with Macaraig long before, if Macaraig ever mentioned where he got the idea of starting the Academy, and the like. Pecson clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at the whole spectacle.

“This is so stupid. You and I both know that is not true, because we—”

“No, no, he’s right.”

A silvery voice could be heard from near the entrance, which alarmed everyone within the vicinity. As the crowd turned towards the source of the voice, they saw Macaraig standing by the door, smiling widely enough that a small dimple could be seen on his cheek.

“He is?” Juanito's eyes bulged in surprise. Tadeo’s chest started pounding upon seeing the rich student, but he tried to look unaffected.

“He was, and is very important,” Macaraig repeated. “As a matter of fact, he is so important in our endeavors that I would like to have a word with him--” (Macaraig looked at Tadeo at this point, and Tadeo’s shoulders stiffened) “Alone. Upstairs. In my study. So, gentlemen, if you may excuse us.” Macaraig looked away momentarily to smile politely at everyone before heading towards the staircase, side-eyeing Tadeo while he was at it. And good God, looking at Macaraig right in the eye felt like he was looking into the eyes of death itself. An uneasy silence filled up the entire room once the sound of footsteps disappeared to the second floor; even Pecson and Juanito were left speechless. Tadeo’s eyes navigated the entire room and, after seeing the lively energy fading away from everyone’s faces, realized that there was nothing left for him to do anymore, and so he scurried up the stairs and towards Macaraig’s office. The jumbled arguing resumed downstairs once he had arrived at the doorstep, with Macaraig already waiting for him there.

Macaraig wordlessly opened the door to his office, and Tadeo had a gut feeling that a guardia civil was inside there, and he was going to be executed by a firing squad. Regardless, the poor liar slowly dragged his feet towards the room, mentally assessing his chances of survival. The least that could happen to him is that he would be silently dismissed from duty, which sounded like a delight at this point, anyway. Once he had gone deeper into the room, he heard Macaraig close the door from behind him.

“Um...” Tadeo spoke, slightly concerned that Macaraig did not let go of the door handle even after closing it and was as still as a statue. “So, since when did you get here?”

After a few seconds, Macaraig slowly turned around and dug his hands into his pockets, a blank expression planted on his face.

“Since you said, 'You can defend Macaraig as much as you want, but that is not going to change who he is,’” he replied casually. Every word that rolled out of his tongue made Tadeo shudder in unadulterated fear_. _ Oh, he was dead meat; Macaraig remembered _ everything _. 

“Shit, you heard a lot…” He had to voice his thoughts. 

Macaraig hummed in response and started walking towards him. “You know, I have met thousands of students who came from all walks of life, and who had all types of personalities and behaviors, but _none _of them—” (Tadeo was scared of the way he punctuated every word at this point) “—ever had the gall to waltz into _my _house and attempt to destroy _my _reputation while they're working with me.”

Tadeo eyed the window at the side of the room and contemplated diving through it, but he stopped. Even when caught in the tightest of spots, he refused to succumb and give in to the pressure.

“So what, you’re going to expose me in front of everyone? Is that it?” 

Macaraig tilted his head slightly. “To tell you the truth, I won’t.” Now it was Tadeo who felt slandered. “I don’t really care about the lies you spread about me, because I know my reputation in the university will speak for itself more than any falsehoods that have been made about me.” 

“Aba!” Tadeo laughed. “What a humble thing for you to say!”

“I am just telling you what everyone else says about me. I have no say in this.” Macaraig crossed his arms. “What I cannot tolerate is your spreading lies about everyone else in this Association. Taking credit for creating the petition and the project in the presence of Pecson and Juanito, who have been working on this with me since the beginning, is a huge disrespect to everyone’s efforts. Take your pathetic excuse of an attempt at storytelling somewhere else. That's all I ask.”

Tadeo tried his best not to wince at Macaraig’s sharp tongue, and he flashed a smile instead, feeling his eye twitch as he did so.

"You're so kind to me," Tadeo said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Letting me get away that easily."

Macaraig shrugged and smiled. "Of course. I'm kind to everyone." 

"You know, the second I step out of this room, I can just go and make up stories again." 

"And I'm counting on it." 

The plain delivery of that phrase made Tadeo realize at that point that he was not dealing with someone normal. Macaraig had everything to lose, and yet he acted as if it was the opposite. No selfish and self-respecting person in Manila would ever act like that, especially of his status. When he was left with no other snappy thing to say, he just tilted his head in amazement, and his previously stiff expression loosened up. Macaraig was still unfazed as ever.

"Well," Macaraig said after huffing, like he had been holding his breath the whole time. "If you don't have anything else to say, you can head back downstairs." 

Tadeo, still dumbfounded, glanced back and forth repeatedly at Macaraig, now reaching for the doorknob, and the door that stood behind Macaraig.

"I-I can…?" His hands fumbled as he gestured at the door. "You're not going to…?" 

"Kick you out of the Association?" He drew back his head slightly. "Of course not. Besides there's still a lot you haven't shown to me yet." 

_'Shown to...?' _ Tadeo was about to ask, but the door swung open from Macaraig's grasp, signalling to Tadeo that the conversation is completely over, despite all the questions that he still had swimming in his mind about what exactly Macaraig meant by that, why did he still let him stay, and where did this Macaraig even come from, in the first place? But a part of him also wanted to leave immediately and escape the conversation, so he walked, albeit cautiously, to the door. Once he had walked out of the doorway, he regained his confidence to ask a question and he turned around just in time for him to meet Macaraig in the eyes through the crack of the door.

"Do I take back what I said?"

Macaraig stared at Tadeo for a few seconds before replying plainly, "That's for you to decide," and he shut the door, leaving Tadeo staring at the carvings on it. Tadeo let out a shaky breath as he tried to collect himself from what had just happened. He wiped the sweat that had been collecting at his nape and wiped it down his trousers before he walked back to the staircase and going down to the main floor. It only took a few heavy steps down the stairs for the students at the main floor to head towards the foot of the staircase, waiting to ambush Tadeo before he could make it back down.

"Tadeo, Tadeo!" Juanito met him halfway on the staircase, with some of the rowdy students from earlier following him. "Did he scold you? What did he say?" 

"Macaraig had a different vibe to him just then, no?" A student remarked. Everyone looked at Tadeo with those expecting, gossip-seeking eyes that Tadeo knew all too well. He felt the nervousness escape his body, and he gave everyone an indecipherable smile.

"He gave me the due credit that I deserved."


	4. Tadeo Exposed

Tadeo thought he could get used to the vigorous energy that filled the house during the past few weeks of his stay; turned out that he got burnt out faster than expected.

He had stayed in Macaraig's house long enough to claim one of the many couches in his house as his every time he was over. He sprawled himself all over the couch, hogging way more space than usual, but it did not matter. Juanito lounged next to where Tadeo’s feet were, his legs off the ground as well, while Isagani, Sandoval, and Pecson sat formally on the couch adjacent to them. The day was almost over, meaning all the students were at their loudest, making the most of each other’s presence before heading back to their homes.

“I can’t believe Father is going to give us an exam on the last day of class!” Juanito whined. “I’m already in the mood to celebrate the holidays. I’m not going to absorb anything.”

“I’d take this over having an exam after the break, though,” Isagani remarked, “At least, then, I don’t have to think about that class for the whole break.”

Tadeo chortled at their foolish argument as he fumbled with an origami star he made from a torn page of a Physics book. “Honestly, I’d rather just not take the exam, at all.”

Juanito, being supportive as can be, laughed as well. “Fair point!”

“I’d prefer that, too.” Pecson pressed his knuckles against his chubby cheek. “Why waste your time studying all night when you’re just going to fail the exam, anyway?”

Tadeo winced in pain. “Ay, that’s true, too,” he said as he tore up another page from the book resting on his stomach.

“Hey,” Sandoval spoke up, “What are you doing to that precious book?!”

Tadeo ignored Sandoval’s initial response as he continued making a crease there and a fold here on the paper. When Sandoval called him a second time, he tilted his head upwards to look at Sandoval from his lying down position.

“Hey, look, I made a duck this time!” He then lifted up the folded paper he finished just then but was slightly upset nobody else was amazed by his creation.

“That’s not my book, is it?” Juanito shakily asked.

Tadeo got up from his seat and opened the book. “Of course not, it’s—” His eyes then darted to the title page that was behind and saw a lousily scribbled 'Pelaez' at the corner of the page, which made him completely freeze. “…Oh.”

Juanito gasped deeply to the point that he wheezed, but his horrified expression turned back to normal after a second. “That’s fine, I’ll just ask my friend for notes,” he said with a chuckle.

“No, it’s not fine.” Sandoval furrowed his eyebrows at Tadeo. “Where’s your book, then? You also have an exam on that day, too, don’t you?”

Tadeo shrugged his shoulders. “I think so?”

“You _ think _? How could you not know if you have a—”

The initial banter of the group trickled into silence as they stared at Tadeo, the realization finally sinking in. Tadeo was almost convinced that he had just murdered someone, considering the ghastly looks on everyone’s faces.

“Unbelievable!" Pecson said, “I knew we should have asked more about his background before Macaraig took him in!”

“Background?” Tadeo scoffed. “What does that supposed to mean?”

“It means you have never gone through a single day in school ever, have you?” Isagani declared.

Tadeo could only laugh nervously in response. "Hold on, what makes you think that? That's kind of a big jump..."

But Tadeo's voice was too meek for Isagani to hear him, so Isagani shifted his head towards Juanito. “Pelaez, why didn't you tell us about this?!”

“Hey, I just thought he was always conveniently available and ready to cut class whenever I was going to!"

"How is that even possible?"

“Okay, fine!” Tadeo cried out. “Maybe I haven’t gone to class at all since forever. So what's the problem?”

“’What's the problem?’” Isagani’s voice grew louder in volume, alarming some of the students who were standing behind him. “How could you fight against the institution when you don’t even know what you are fighting for, and what exactly you are fighting against?”

_Yeesh_, Tadeo thought to himself, _so this was what Juanito meant when he said it gets lonely when everyone speaks in different tongues._ The kind of logic that everyone else was using was awfully confusing.

"I don’t understand?”

“Tadeo,” Sandoval said, looking at him with sharp, serious eyes. “I want you to answer me as honestly as possible. Why do you want the Castilian Academy to exist?"

‘_I don’t know, _ ’ was going to be his honest answer. ‘ _ I just came here because Juanito wanted me to, because I have nothing better to do with my life, because I was told there was going to be free food, and let’s be real, who can say no to free food? _’ But he had lived in this country long enough to know that nobody appreciated and thrived from honesty.

“Come on.” Tadeo laughed as he sat up, his elbow resting on the arm of the couch. “Obviously, I… want everyone else to learn how to speak Spanish.”

Tadeo could tell from Sandoval's sigh and the way Pecson smirked at him that his response was not the correct answer.

“Tadeo,” Isagani started, “This Academy is more than just teaching a language. This is about providing the best possible education for the youth—one that is liberating and empowering, and nothing like the University had ever given us. It is our chance to get back at them, for all the times they have deprived other Filipinos the opportunity of learning the language because of their selfish acts, and our chance to rise up against—Tadeo! Snap out of it!”

“You know, it’s been a long day,” Juanito meekly added, “Maybe we should just go home…”

The whole time, Tadeo had been clicking his tongue in frustration and staring off into the window, carefully inspecting it like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen in his life. To Tadeo, it seemed that Isagani did not care whether anyone was listening, because he just kept rambling on. It was too exhausting to listen to what he had to say. Soon enough, however, he saw a coachman drive by the front porch, with Macaraig swiftly stepping down from the coach. Isagani's blabbering grew fainter in his ears, and Tadeo watched as he saw Macaraig rushing towards the front door in the blink of an eye. Before his mind could even register, Macaraig had already gone up to the couch where the group was hanging out in.

“Hey everyone, we have a problem.”

Macaraig’s voice was immediately drowned out by the noise of everyone arguing; not even about the main issue, but about other Tadeo-related matters.

“I bet Tadeo was also the one who started those rumors about me being a criminal!” Sandoval frowned. “That kind of foolish story would only come from someone like him, so it seems.”

Pecson pouted. “Aw, that wasn’t real? I really loved that story, it suits you.”

“Hey Sandoval, I can hear you from here!” Tadeo waved his hand frantically at him. “You know, if you want to talk about someone who has no positive feelings about the Academy, you can bring Pecson into the discussion, too!”

“Hoy! Don’t you dare turn this conversation on me!”

Macaraig called out again to the group, albeit more exasperatedly, perhaps because he realized midway through that he would not be heard. After realizing all his efforts were in vain, he casually walked towards the back of the couch where Pecson, Sandoval, and Isagani were, and kicked it with such force that the couch moved forward with Sandoval almost falling forward. The entire gang turned their heads towards Macaraig.

“Oh, good.” Macaraig smiled as he fixed the cuffs of his sleeves. “Everyone’s paying attention.”

“Did you have to kick the chair, though?!”

“If I may, Macaraig,” Sandoval said after recovering from the startling kick, “Tadeo’s been advocating for the establishment of the Academy for almost two months and yet he’s completely ignorant of the reasons why we even do so!”

“Hey, I told you it’s because I wanted people to learn Spanish,” Tadeo repeated impatiently.

Macaraig’s eyes glanced towards Tadeo and then back at Sandoval. “So? Then teach him.”

"That's not what we mean,” Isagani said. "Every member is already supposed to have strong stances about..." 

“If anything, I think this is a great opportunity for us to educate him," Macaraig commented. "He came into this association _tabula rasa, _just like how all of us used to be when we were young and ignorant; so what? Our association made it this far even with him around, so it should not be a big issue, don't you think?"

Tadeo stared at Macaraig with a baffled look, especially since his ears had been so accustomed to angry rants and accusations from the earlier discussion. This was such a nice change of pace that he wished he could shower him with thanks if it were not for his own pride.

Isagani sighed, his shoulders drooping. “You have a point. I’m sorry, I guess I got a bit carried away there.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be Isagani if you didn’t get carried away, right?” Juanito snickered. Tadeo followed suit and laughed as well, which garnered them a glare from the other couch.

"Don't worry, Isagani, I'm still thankful of your passion." Macaraig smiled in a show of courtesy before shifting back to his grave look from earlier. “Anyway, I hate to break everyone’s high spirits, but I came here because we have a slight problem.”

The group looked keenly at Macaraig, who was still standing behind one of the couches.

“We don’t have enough teachers.”

“What?!”

“Hold on.” Sandoval put his hand up. “I already brought in some last month, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Macaraig replied, “I went to their houses earlier to check up on them, and the next thing I knew, I was told by some neighbors they have already left Manila for good.”

Pecson rolled his eyes. “Typical.”

“I already exhausted all my options,” Isagani said. “I can look for more, but I cannot guarantee they’ll accept.”

Tadeo's eye twitched as he lazily inspected his paper duck.

“Well, we know for a fact Sandoval can’t bring any good teachers, so—”

“Look, that was just two!”

“Can’t we let some teachers repeat, though?” Juanito asked.

“It’s difficult,” Macaraig said. “Ideally, one teacher is going to handle a class of about fifteen students. If we do that, then some of them will teach a much bigger class, which would just end up being counterproductive.”

"So then how are we supposed to..."

Tadeo, desperately wanting to have a light and casual conversation with no hint of intellectual discussions, decided to put an end to it. He tossed the paper duck to the coffee table in front and straightened his back as he sat up.

“Guys, relax.” He sighed. “I know someone who can help us. He’s a former teacher of mine, but he’s on break right now, too. He’s from my province, and he speaks really good Spanish, too, he and some other colleagues. I can ask him if he’s willing when I get back for Christmas.”

“When you get back?” Macaraig asked glancing at the other members present. “Can’t you give a sooner answer?”

“This is still going to be sent next month, right?”

“But we can’t really afford to wait until then. Everything has to be set in stone now if we want to make sure this gets approved in time for next school year.”

Tadeo sharply inhaled, mentally begging for the teacher’s forgiveness from miles away before saying, “Okay, fine, I’ll ask him later and then I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“You sure he’s not going to back out on us?”

“Yes.” _ I hope _, Tadeo thought to himself.

Macaraig let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Let me know the full details once exams are over tomorrow.”

“Yeaaah!” Juanito stretched his arms and leaned back into the couch. “Now that everything is settled, all that’s left to do is think about Christmas!”

“We still have exams,” Macaraig said gravely. Tadeo, however, decided to join Juanito in his cheerful celebration and clapped along.

“Yay! Christmas! Christmas!”

And as if a giant boulder was lifted off their shoulders, everyone’s face lit up as they pondered on the festivities that were yet to come. Wide smiles were plastered on nearly everyone’s faces, accompanied with crinkly and sparkly eyes; the beauty of ignorant youth.

“To tell you the truth,” Sandoval said, rubbing his hands gleefully, “I can’t wait for Christmas, either! It is my first time experiencing Christmas in Manila!”

“It’s nice, but nothing beats experiencing Christmas in your hometown.” Isagani smiled as he rested his cheek on his palm, gazing elsewhere. “It feels a lot more intimate than in the city.”

Even Pecson, as pessimistic as he was, had his normally pouty lips stretch and curve upwards. “Bah, who cares about the solemnity, all I want is the Noche Buena!”

Tadeo felt absolutely relieved seeing everyone else look so relaxed—well, also relieved because everyone was not showing off their scary, intellectual fangs to him. Every glowing face he saw seated on the couch made him feel fuzzy inside, like he would willingly let himself drown in these feelings, though he did not share their same excitement for Christmas in his hometown. That was, until his gaze landed on Macaraig.

He was sitting on the arm of the couch next to where Juanito was, gazing down at everyone with a solemn look on his face. He was not even laughing or chuckling at Juanito’s crazy antics, or how ridiculously childish Pecson looked at the moment; he was just silently looking over everyone, with only his eyelashes battering every so often and a ghost of a smile on his lips. Tadeo wondered if Macaraig was not the type to celebrate Christmas.

“‘Hey, Macaraig, What are you doing this Christmas?”

Everyone immediately turned their heads to Macaraig, who jumped slightly from the attention he received. However, he was able to compose himself as soon as it happened, fiddling with one of the buttons on his jacket.

“Ah, I’ll just be staying here in Manila for Christmas.”

“Great!” Sandoval clapped his hands. “So you can show me around Manila, right? Like where would be the best spot to enjoy a procession, or parties to attend!”

Macaraig raised his shoulder and smiled. “Sure. Sounds fun.”

Tadeo, meanwhile, clicked his tongue as he looked at Macaraig. That answer was not enough.

“What I meant was,” he persisted, “are you going to spend it with your family?"

Tadeo saw Macaraig’s hand grip onto the couch as the latter turned towards him, a soft smile still gracing his face.

“I’m already doing it, aren’t I?" Everyone fell silent before Macaraig continued to speak. “After all… you guys are my family.”

Tadeo wished he was touched by his answer. He really did. But all this made him do was doubt him more, and unfortunately it seemed that he was the only one who was not satisfied with this. Juanito sniffled after he heard this and hugged Macaraig around his waist while he was sitting down.

“Macaraig!” Juanito cried out. “I’m so sorry I’m not going to be in Manila with you for Christmas! I promise I will get you a gift when I get back!”

Macaraig glanced nervously at the group, who were laughing at the entire spectacle. He awkwardly rubbed Juanito’s hunched back. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to get me anything—”

“I’ll get you a gift too!”

He was interrupted by Sandoval, who tackled him this time from the other side, completely squishing him between the two crybabies. Isagani and Pecson chuckled amongst themselves as the other three—well, two, with a suffocating Macaraig in the middle—shared an emotional moment.

“And I will make sure our project will see the light of day!” Sandoval declared as he pointed his finger up.

Tadeo couldn't help but smile at the sight. “Hey guys, leave some for us, will you?” He asked, extending his arms. “We’re family, too.”

Juanito, teary-eyed, looked towards Tadeo and latched onto him as soon as he let go of Macaraig, who finally got to catch his breath.

“Of course, Tadeo, of course!”

Sandoval followed suit, hugging Isagani so tightly that he was already lifting him up in the air with his strong arms and swaying him back and forth, making the latter laugh in delight.

“My God, you’re acting like a bunch of children," Pecson commented with a scowl on his face. "It's not like the world is ending tomorrow." 

The joyous gang turned their heads towards the Pecson almost in synchronization, and stared at him with poker faces, long enough to make Pecson shrink in his stance. 

"Looks like someone needs a huuuug!" Tadeo sang, looking at the rest of the group with a knowing expression. Everyone else smirked as soon as they got the signal, and broke apart from the group embrace and paced towards Pecson. 

"No I don't need-- Oy, what are you all doing, get away from me!" Pecson yelled as soon as he saw the group attempt to pounce him, and sprinted away from the living room, nearly knocking over a couple of students over in the process. Juanito and Tadeo, playful as they were, chased after Pecson while the more mature ones in the group were laughing at the whole exhibit. 

"Ow--!"

"Got you!" Juanito cried out as he tackled Pecson from behind, successfully catching him after chasing him throughout the house. Tadeo stopped his running and laughed at Pecson's scowling face. He looked towards the couch to see how everyone reacted, but Isagani and Sandoval were reading their books and not watching them, having moved on from the merry-making in the glimpse of a moment. Not only that, Macaraig was gone from the scene, too. When Tadeo looked around the room to find him, he found Macaraig already heading up the stairs, his legs disappearing to the upper floor as soon as he had spotted him.

Tadeo arrived back to his boarding house after having eaten dinner, finding himself alone in his room with an unmade bed and large cloth bags laying around the floor. His ears were ringing from the silence that was ever present in his room, a contrast to the boisterous and loud chattering that he had just come from in Macaraig's house. He looked at the clothes he had to pack for his trip back to his province, the books he will leave behind in hopes that it will get stolen or misplaced forever, and he sighed deeply. 

Maybe Tadeo did not have to go back to the province? He can just not go back, spend his Christmas with actual good company, like Macaraig and Sandoval, and have fun during Christmas for once. But then he remembered the promise he gave Macaraig earlier that day, and how he needed to meet with his teacher for the project. There was no way he could leave a trace of himself in the Castilian Project, especially given their controversial status in the presence of authorities; letters might prove themselves futile. And of course, there were those other obligations… 

Tadeo could only heave a sigh from the unnecessary stress and decided he will just pack his stuff when he wakes up. He rested his head against the pillow, now throbbing from a headache, and looked out the window, noting the absence of the moon and stars in the night sky before closing his eyes and falling into slumber. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry updates are so unpredictable ;;; it's because of who i am as a person


	5. Merry Christmas?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no AWK gang in this chapter pasensya na po ;;;;
> 
> btw thank you so much to those who left kudos (kahit di pa tapos ang fic na ito KSSLSKSLK) ; ; ♡♡♡ sana di ko kayo madidisappoint from this point on HAHAHA

The sala at Tadeo’s house is at its brightest and liveliest every Christmas. Dozens of relatives would waltz right through the door, with the men wearing a suffocating fragrance on their neck and the women wearing powdery and smelly make-up on their cheeks. The plates and trays shone like stars on the long dinner table in the middle—stars adorned with lechon, relleno, curacha, leche flan, and everything else that was too good for this world.

Befitting of any well-off son, Tadeo stood by the table, watching as his titos and titas swarm near the doorway, and whenever he sees a new face come into the room, he would walk right up to them to meekly, disinterestedly tap the back of their hand to his forehead. The timing was very tricky to attain, as more often than not, these new faces would end up distracted from the delightful conversations his mother, Doña Antonina, would strike up.

“Nining!” One of his aunts sang as she walked in and hugged his mother. “You still look gorgeous as ever!”

“You too!” Doña Antonina replied with a tight smile. “Uy, where is Carlos?”

“Ah, he’s in Hong Kong now!” The proud tita put her free hand by her waist. “Time flies, no? He’s working in a warehouse there, and he’s happier than ever!”

Doña Antonina smiled and nodded as she spoke, her abaniko shut while she tapped her left ear. Tadeo bit the inside of his mouth, knowing by heart what was to come next.

“I see, I see… Deong!” She called for him in a shrill voice from the other side of the floor. “Your Tia Anang is here!”

'_Tia Kayabanang, you mean_,’ Tadeo wished he could say. But his family obligations took the best of him, and all he could do was just sigh to himself as he walked towards the two aged women, a forced smile on his face.

“Merry Christmas, Tia,” he greeted, putting out his palm in front of her. He felt her coarse and wrinkly hands brush against his fingers and tried not to wince as he brought her hand up to his forehead.

“Ah, Tadeo, such a gentleman, as always!” She chimed. “Glad to see that Manila hasn’t turned you to a filibustero yet!”

“Oh God, no!” Doña Antonina answered back with the sharp flick of her abaniko, hugging Tadeo by his shoulders. “Don’t worry, he is in good hands there in the University. The vice rector of the school told me earlier this year he is doing very well, not getting into trouble.” Here, she took the time to look at Tadeo with a gentle gaze and brushed the stray and curly locks away from his forehead. “Isn’t that right, Tadeo?”

“Yeah.” Tadeo felt the skin around his lips tighten. “Can’t afford to disappoint Papa now, can’t we?”

Tia Anang, for all her talk of being close with Tadeo’s family, would never hear the silent conversation that had just taken place between a mother and her son in front of her. She would never hear the previous late-night sermons of, “We worked so hard to send you to Manila, and this is how you repay us?”, or “If they ask you this or that, just tell them…” or even, “Come up with a story; any story, just don’t let them know that… ” Because no matter how open their doors were to the public eye, there was still so much hiding behind them.

“Aw, don’t say that,” Tia Anang cooed. “I’m sure your father is very, very proud of you. He wanted this for you, after all…”

‘_Please shut up_,’ Tadeo cussed in his head. ‘_Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up_—’

“Where is he, by the way?”

“He’s going door-to-door, giving gifts.” Doña Antonina smiled. “He’s a very busy man. But at least when Tadeo graduates, he will have someone who can take over for him.”

“A businessman and a lawyer!” Tia Anang gasped. “What a lovely combination! The ladies will come running for you, huh, Tadeo?”

The laugh that came out of Tadeo’s mouth was the worst one yet. He felt his throat hurt even as he forced it out. 

“So will everyone else who needs to file lawsuits!”

Tadeo's unusual sense of humor evaded the two women, making them continue their discussion about Carlos without acknowledging the young man's remark. Tadeo stood next to his mother, looking around for any new faces. Anyone who he could greet and entertain just so could leave this conversation. When he could not find anyone else to walk up to, he turned back to the two and sulked quietly, his mind wandering elsewhere to cure the boredom. Maybe he could snatch some lechon skin when no one was looking. Or bother the servants who had been pulling on the punkah to fan those who sat at the dining table. 

He looked towards the couches, where some of the neighbors were busy chatting and bragging about their children and somehow, he was reminded of the Castilian Academy members back in Manila. Those aggressive know-it-alls who felt like they were the ultimate enlightened ones. But at least they were arrogant because they were bragging about themselves, and not bragging about other people's achievements and claiming it as their own. And at the end of the day, their presence did not leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Not Sandoval's presence, not Isagani's, and especially not Macaraig's.

Macaraig. Manila. Christmas. Tadeo started to wonder what was Christmas like back in Manila right now. Was it really less personal as Isagani claimed it was? Tadeo's memories of Christmas in Manila were fuzzy, but the thought of standing in a crowd for hours for some useless procession, and the consequent aching feeling in his knees made him feel as though he would not enjoy it there, anyway. But if it were spent with people whom he enjoyed being with…

“Alvaro!” Tio Prado's booming voice echoed into his ear, interrupting his thought process. “Great to see you again!”

Tadeo immediately perked when he heard the name, and he quickly snapped his head to look at the main entrance where an aged and balding man walked in, the golden sunlight shining behind him.

Maestro Alvaro was one of Tadeo’s teachers during his childhood years. He was introduced to Tadeo by his father as a long-time family friend. To the friars, he was a mere indio, but to the aspiring few, he was a stepping stone to success and prestige, with his hidden skills in speaking Castilian and being exceptionally good in taking care of children. Tadeo could proudly say that among all the teachers he ever had, he loved Maestro Alvaro the most, mostly because Tadeo did not have to leave the house and sit in some uncomfortable nipa hut with strangers, just so he could be force-fed information. Back then, his parents were still on the road to becoming financially stable, so when the daily Spanish lessons were done, Maestro Alvaro would look after Tadeo for the whole day—not exactly a troublesome task, as all he needed to do was stay by Tadeo’s side as he slept the day away. 

“Maestro!” Tadeo hitched his breath and, before sprinting towards the said teacher, gave a half-hearted excuse to Doña Antonina and Tia Anang. He managed to catch a “What is up with him?” from his aunt as he left. Not that it mattered, anyway.

“Maestro!” He repeated with a more confident tone, interrupting the lighthearted chat that one of his tiyos was having with Maestro Alvaro. The two older men widened their eyes in surprise, which made Tadeo hunch his back a bit to appear small. “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Well, when was the last time I’ve ever seen you this excited to see me!” Maestro Alvaro said with a cheerful laugh. Tadeo felt his shoulders become less tense.

“When was the last time you’ve seen him run, too…” Tio Prado commented unnecessarily, but Tadeo brushed him off in his head.

“Tio, is it alright if I can borrow Maestro for a bit? I need to talk to him about something.”

“Well,” he said while glancing at Maestro Alvaro, “I cannot say no to Don Patricio’s boy, so… Go ahead.”

“Are you not going to ask me if _ I’m _ okay with being borrowed?” jested Maestro Alvaro, his face contorting in offense.

Tadeo grabbed Maestro Alvaro by his sleeves and leaned closer, a gesture he had always made when he was younger so he could get longer break times.

“You cannot say no to Don Patricio’s boy,” Tadeo repeated with a smug grin on his face. Maestro Alvaro could only sigh as he admitted defeat by the wits of his former pupil. He gave one last departing nod to Tadeo’s tio, who waved before moving on to talk to another idle acquaintance, before following Tadeo upstairs. The second floor was a lot quieter and breezier, due to the fact that there was not as many people here than downstairs. It was important that nobody else could hear them.

“So Deong, how is Manila?” Maestro Alvaro asked as they arrived at the second floor.

Tadeo simply smiled back at him with his eyes squinting tightly. His teacher hummed in reply, seemingly able to understand the meaning behind this joyous expression of his.

“And you, Maestro?” Tadeo asked. “I hope you were able to rest well from your break this year.”

“You know,” he replied, “I am starting to understand why you enjoy doing nothing so much.”

Tadeo howled in laughter. “Yes! Somebody finally understands!”

“Don’t get cocky, now,” Maestro Alvaro said sternly, but the wrinkles on his forehead lessened as he saw the victorious expression on Tadeo’s face. “But needless to say, being able to do nothing becomes more of a luxury as we get older, I’m afraid. So, I appreciated the past six months of rest I had.”

Tadeo’s smile quivered instinctively from his Maestro’s words, so he decided to go straight to the point.

“Hey, Maestro, there is something important I want to ask of you. And I mean, it is really important.”

Maestro Alvaro blinked. “I don’t think I like where this is going.”

"No, it's good, it's really good!" Tadeo's voice got caught in his throat as he finished his sentence, only realizing at this point how horrible of an idea this was; to ask his low-profile teacher to teach in a high-risk, high-profile project. "Actually, it's just that... My university needs more teachers..." 

An uncomfortable silence followed his words.

"Only friars can teach in your school," Alvaro finally replied, his eyes squinting. 

“Well, times are changing, you know!" Tadeo's voice cracked as he laughed. "You know how it is in— in Manila—"

"You're trying to lie to my face again?" Alvaro's voice got rougher, and Tadeo shielded his face in defense.

"No, wait, I mean to say—!” Tadeo blurted out before shutting his mouth with his hands and, after inspecting his surroundings, speaking up again. “I mean to say that I…" He took a deep breath, making his voice go low, and he pronounced each word slowly. "I joined this group back in Manila. They’re made up of students from my school, and they intend to establish an academy whose main goal is to teach Castilian to Filipinos, so I was… hoping you could…”

Tadeo’s voice faltered as he saw Maestro Alvaro’s face transition from irritation to amazement. He stared back at him with bulging eyes and an agape mouth.

“Could it be…?!” He managed to choke out. Maestro Alvaro then frantically turned towards the window, and then to his back, and before Tadeo could even register it, he spun around like a lunatic. Even Tadeo was moved to concern.

“Maestro?” Tadeo meekly spoke.

“Who are you?” Maestro Alvaro exclaimed and held his balding head with his hands. “Who are you and what have you done to Tadeo?!”

“What? What do you mean!?”

“Oh, God!” Maestro Alvaro paced around the floor. “To think I lived to see the day that you actually care about something! Better yet, it’s you advocating about something so noble! So-!”

Tadeo drew his head back in surprise, and it took a while before he registered what his teacher said.

“Do you really think that low of me?!”

“Is there a reason for me not to?”

Tadeo was about to open his mouth, but he suddenly felt a dull, pinching pain coming from his earlobe—a pain he felt a long time ago—and kept quiet.

"I guess there's none," Tadeo mumbled. "But you can't tell anyone about this, alright?" 

"Yes, yes, of course." Alvaro waved him off with his hand. "But seriously! Who made you join this? Was it Paco? That boy was quite the eccentric himself.”

“No.” 

“Pepe? Ay, I already told you to avoid that heretic.” 

“No.” 

“Are you trying to impress a girl?” 

“No! Look, it’s not that hard to believe I can care about something like this!” Tadeo immediately regretted raising his voice at his mentor when he saw the taken-aback look of Alvaro, in which case he slouched a bit. “I mean, it’s a good… business opportunity.” 

Alvaro could only cock an eyebrow at Tadeo. “Business? Tadeo, I know you’re Patricio’s son, but you’ve never cared about money like that.” 

Tadeo stammered, “I don’t, but—” 

“So it’s fake. The entire thing.” Alvaro clicked his tongue and turned on his heel, heading back to the stairs while mumbling to himself.

“Wha?! No, it’s super real! I—” Tadeo was scrambling words in his head, trying to come up with a way to get his teacher to come back. “—I even have a rich friend backing up this project all the way from Manila!"

When Tadeo saw Maestro Alvaro stop walking in his path, he knew he had his teacher wrapped around his finger again. He grinned proudly as Alvaro slowly walked back to him again, his face still stern as always, but Tadeo swore he saw the glint of a peso in his pupils.

"What does he do?" 

Tadeo bit the flesh of his mouth. "... I don't know. I just know he's rich." 

Tadeo had sworn he won Alvaro the first time, but the peso-coin glint had faded in his eyes, and the taciturn look on Alvaro's face came back. 

“Then why don’t you sell the project to me?”

“Huh?”

“Stop the ignorance, boy, I know you know what I'm talking about” Alvaro snapped, making Tadeo freeze. “What is going to make this different from all the other schools that have ventured down this path and failed? Tell me, how much of a joke is this really to you?”

For some reason, Tadeo felt something flare up in his chest as his teacher spoke, and his mouth ran off without having thought of a word. 

“You know what, maybe I did join this as some kind of joke," Tadeo said, "And I don't understand until this day what the point of all of this is, but I know that the guys I work with back in Manila are the nicest and most passionate people I have come across. I think once you work with them, they will make sure nothing bad is going to happen to you. You'll see!" 

Alvaro squinted at Tadeo and peered into his eyes, a technique he had mastered whenever he wanted to make sure Tadeo had really absorbed his lessons from before. Tadeo had to wipe his sweaty hands on his trousers just to get a hold of himself, but thankfully, Alvaro pulled back faster than expected, an aghast look on his face.

"Amazing," he gasped. "You might actually be telling the truth this time." 

"Oh God, am I?" Tadeo brought his hand up to cup his mouth, and a cloud shrouded his face.

Alvaro smiled and patted Tadeo's shoulder firmly. "Your father was right for sending you to Manila, after all. You really are learning." 

Tadeo averted his eyes. "That... That's not..." 

"With that said—" Alvaro clapped his hands. "When do I get my first paycheck?" 

"What?" Tadeo breathed out a laugh in his confusion. "The school hasn't even been put up yet!"

"But you have a recruitment fee, don't you?" he asked. "Maybe there's..."

"Tadeo!" 

The two men clammed up immediately as they heard the voice coming from the stairway. Tadeo turned around to see Doña Antonina walking up the stairs. He stepped forward towards her in one stride and lowered his head. 

"Sorry I left." 

Doña Antonina frowned and she brought her hand up to hold Tadeo's cheek. The soft sunlight from the outside shed light on the features that were not as evident when she was not laughing and flaunting in the crowd down below: the dark, sunken circles under her eyes, the pores on her face. Tadeo was more familiar with that side of his mother more than anything. 

"I was worried you had run off again," she spoke in a hoarser voice than the highfalutin voice she had earlier. "Now, you two come downstairs, everyone already started eating." 

When Tadeo saw her making no attempt to walk back to the staircase, his shoulders tensed up in an attempt to brace himself. He glanced at Maestro Alvaro, who mindlessly walked to the staircase, but stopped halfway in his path when he realized there was no one walking by his side.

"Señora?"

"You can go ahead," Doña Antonina said with a gentle wave of her fan. "I just need to talk to my son about our plans for this evening." 

Doña Antonina turned to Tadeo, her smooth, porcelain face now scrunching up as she twitched her eye. An awkward smile crept onto his face as she drew her face closer.

"When you get down there," she said gruffly, "You make sure that Tia Kayabanang and Tio Suprado of yours hears about all your stories of Manila, alright? Tell them how beautiful it is."

Tadeo could only smile through tight lips. "Okay." 

"Those brats think they can enter my house and insult my son?" She continued, glancing sharply at the side as if the two relatives were just right there at the corner. "A 'filibustero'?" Ha! They're just jealous they could not even afford to send their son to Manila! Don't you think?" 

"You're right."

"Just ignore them, hijo, they will be gone soon enough."

Tadeo nodded again. And then, in a smooth motion, Doña Antonina fluttered her abaniko open and she looked at her son in the eye, the tight smile coming back to her lips.

"Well, we're being rude! We can't keep them hanging!" She said while bringing her abaniko back to her chest in modest Filipina fashion. "I'll meet you downstairs once you're ready to join us." 

The twinkle in Doña Antonina's eyes came back, and in a confident stride, she spun around and headed back downstairs, leaving her son helplessly watching as she got possessed by the Christmas spirit once more.

Tadeo sighed to himself and he went out to the open capiz window to get some fresh air. He mentally tallied all the children being pulled by the hands by their own parents down the busy street, and all the groups huddled together, exchanging gifts out in the open.

"I hope he's doing better than I am." The words slipped through Tadeo's mouth. He heard the crowd of adults get louder and louder from downstairs and he cussed under his breath again, assuring himself this would only last for a few weeks. That was the last thought that crossed his mind before inhaling deeply and heading towards the stairs, letting himself get possessed by the spirits of formality and royalty, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> notes on vocabulary in case anyone needs it
> 
> _abaniko_ \- fan. originally this was supposed to just be 'fan' when i wrote it but i found out abaniko isn't the same as pamaypay (which also means fan, but the material used is different), so to preserve the connotation of both words, i used abaniko instead  
_punkah_ \- cloth fan, has hindi origin but it's been found to be used in philippine houses as well as well. the idea is that a blanket is suspended on the ceiling and attached to a rope that the servants would pull periodically to fan those beneath it. the servants would usually be hidden from sight, since they'll be fanning from another room  
_Tia Kayabanang and Tio Suprado_ \- play on the words 'kayabangan' (arrogance) and 'suplado' (someone who's arrogant)  
_curacha_ \- cooked crab. from my last-minute research it is a chavacano cuisine but i dont know if its served during noche buena so pls take it with a grain of salt  
some of these hcs re: tadeo's family are inspired from the hcs/interpretations ive read from other people in the fandom btw!!


	6. The Duality of Macaraig

Classes resumed on the first Monday of January so naturally, Tadeo did not go to class. Luckily for him, Juanito also had the brilliant plan of skipping school as well. The young men barely escaped the bustling group of students as they were leaving the house as they were going to class. They were the only ones present in Macaraig’s house, at the moment.

“Looks like Macaraig won’t be back until lunch,” Juanito said while lying flat on his stomach. “He said he’s going to send the petition in after class and then meet with the new teacher?”

“Yeah.” Tadeo locked his hands behind his head. “We pretty much have the whole house to ourselves before their break!”

Juanito got up from his position and went on his knees, a cheeky grin on his face. “So, what shall we do today? Trash everyone’s bedrooms? Move every single furniture in this house an inch off?"

“No, we already did that last one before we left for Christmas break,” Tadeo said with his index finger on his chin. He could still vividly remember the disoriented look on Sandoval’s face when he walked through the door and how he almost knocked over one of Macaraig’s most valuable vases.

The two students sat on the couch with pouty looks on their faces, scanning their surroundings every so often for inspiration. After a few moments of contemplative silence, Juanito’s face lit up as he snapped his fingers.

“A-ha! I know! Let’s break into one of Macaraig’s bedrooms here!”

“Oh, that sounds—Wait, ‘one of’?! I thought he just had one?”

Juanito shifted his body so that he would completely face Tadeo, a sly grin creeping on his lips.

“Well, that’s because we only ever get to see that one bedroom. The fancy-looking bedroom whose doors were always open for everyone to get in. I’ve seen it from the outside lots of times, but it’s weird how plain it looks, considering it’s supposed to be _ his _bedroom?”

Tadeo had only seen glimpses of the bedroom whenever he was chasing or being chased around the house by some of Macaraig’s housemates, so he could not notice much. He could only recall the cream-colored wallpaper with golden trimmings and the white cushiony furniture, contrasting with the smooth, polished wooden flooring that was characteristic of his house.

“I just remember it looking like a pretty room to me.”

“It is _ too _pretty,” Juanito corrected him, “And too clean. Nothing to really indicate that anybody lives in that room. So, I have a theory—Listen, listen!’ He waved his hand back and forth, as if to let Tadeo in on a secret. “What if he keeps all his personal stuff in that other bedroom, the one that’s always locked?”

Tadeo raised his eyebrow at the direction Juanito’s conversation was going. “You’re telling me you want us to get into a bedroom that’s perpetually locked and hidden from everyone else?”

“You’ll never know, we can—we can use a fork! Or some other key? Whichever, just jab something inside that keyhole so that we can unlock it. Come on, Tadeo, this is our chance! Think of all the juicy secrets that could be hidden behind that door!”

The moment Tadeo heard the phrase “juicy secrets,” his entire body perked up and he ended up mischievously grinning too. To think that prim and proper Macaraig would be hiding something scandalous behind closed doors after all this time! He forgot all the hopes and dreams he faked to get into the Association, the half-hearted promises and commitments he made, and realized everything he had done for the Academy has led him to this exact moment.

“You’re right,” he said. “We need to get into that bedroom!”

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” Juanito hopped off the couch. “Let’s go!”

“Hoy! Wait for me!”

Juanito went ahead than Tadeo, who was still in the middle of putting his shoes and socks on. Once Tadeo was all set, he ran up the staircase, almost stumbling forward as he did so.

“Tadeo, here!” Juanito’s voice echoed from the far end of the hallway that stretched to his left. He walked towards the source of the excited stamping of Juanito’s feet, the endless number of single-door rooms blurring as he went past them. He soon found himself facing two sets of mahogany double-paneled doors, each adjacent to each other in the hallway. Juanito stood next to the double door with the door slightly open.

“This is the one he always keeps open,” Juanito said as he swung the door open. He looked at the room with a slightly lopsided smile, but Tadeo looked around in awe. He had not seen the bedroom in its entirety, but up close was a different story. 

Macaraig bedroom clearly stood out from the dull and plain bedrooms he had seen around his house. It was even the most illuminated room in the entire house, not only because of the wide open windows letting in the midday sunlight, but also due to the heaven-like palette of his room: beige, floral wallpaper adorned the walls, and intricately carved, golden friezes crowned the room from corner to corner. Calling attention to itself would be the white chandelier hanging above the four-poster bed sitting proudly in the middle of the room. The bed was adorned with lacy, white drapes, blankets and pillows, and had a squash-like headboard with ornate carvings; a distinct craftwork in the works of Ah Tay. The ceiling, meanwhile, is amply decorated with mezzanine tiles designed like stars. Despite the absence of vibrant and pigmented colors in it, his bedroom still carried itself with grace and elegance. What was notable of his room, however—and many could say this about Macaraig's house, in its entirety—was the lack of any human portraits, not even of Macaraig.

"It's very quaint," Tadeo commented. 

“Precisely! Looks more like the bedroom of a plain woman,” Juanito spoke up. “Don’t worry, we will find out everything about his personal life in the other room! Or maybe even—” he gasped, “—his love life!”

Tadeo’s shoulders tensed up as he let out a laugh. “I can’t imagine him having a love life with all the responsibilities he’s juggling.”

“With a guy as rich as him? He could already charm a woman by just breathing around her.” Juanito popped the collar of his shirt and let out a smug grin. “Just like me, don’t you think?”

“Charm a woman to leave you, probably!” 

The two men laughed hysterically, walking out of the bedroom and closing the door behind them.

Juanito then pulled out a key from his pocket and raised it up in the air.

“This is the key for my bedroom in my house, but there’s a chance we will have the same door knob supplier, right?”

“Well, let’s hope for the best.”

He shoved the key into the keyhole, but froze when he realized the door gaped slightly from his shove. They felt a cold breeze brush against their body as the door swung wide enough to see a small glimpse of the room. Tadeo slowly turned his head to look at Juanito, who also did the same.

“It’s open,” they mused at the same time. They stared at each other wide-eyed for a few seconds before immediately running through the door, nearly shoving each other in the process.

The layout of this bedroom was the same as the first one they saw, however there was definitely a bolder choice of color in this room. The entire ceiling was adorned with gold-colored tiles and bordered by more intricately carved friezes. The paneled wallpaper was pale turquoise instead, and the pattern looked simple enough but only upon closer inspection would someone realize the wallpaper was akin to a Church fresco, with the little designs of angels bordering the panels. Macaraig's bedroom would have looked like heaven if it weren't for the dim lighting. The four-poster bed, meanwhile, had a lush, burgundy red sheets and drapes with a golden trim, and had more complex carvings on the squash-shaped headboard than the first bed. No one even realized the still-blatant lack of human portraits in the bedroom. The two students were stunned in silence, comprehending the possibility such a European-like room existed in Macaraig's house.

"I don't want to go through all of this," Tadeo finally said in his whiny voice, content in finding out Macaraig's secret world. "There's nothing here to find."

“No, no, there’s still a chance! We can look for, ah, some unfinished love letters around here?" Juanito headed towards the vanity dresser, where there were numerous sheets of parchment paper scattered on it. Some of these sheets were crumpled, others were hanging precariously off the edges, and some had blacked-out sentences and soaked in dried out ink.

“Hey, we should take turns looking around. I’ll stay here by the door and keep watch, then you go find something.”

“Sounds good!”

Tadeo leaned against the doorway, craning his neck every now and then to get a better look of the long corridor that stretched beyond Macaraig’s door. His knees started to ache after what felt like ten minutes, although he had really just been standing for four. Juanito, meanwhile, had already checked all four corners of Macaraig’s bedroom, trying not to move around the furniture and fancy paintings that hung on the wall.

“Did you find anything spicy yet?”

“No, but my God—” Juanito started sifting through the papers on the dresser “—Macaraig made _ so _ many drafts of the petition. Where does he get the time to write all of this?”

“Maybe he made all of those duplicates to cover up the love letters he’s been writing.”

“Good point! Let's see if we could read this." 

Juanito’s hump grew even more as he bent over the dresser, sorting through the leaves of parchment paper on it until he was able to meet the polished wooden surface of the dresser

“I wonder why the other guys didn’t think about doing this in the first place…”

“Well,” Juanito said, lifting one of the blacked-out papers , “I guess they’re content with just seeing that one bedroom.”

Tadeo just shrugged at his friend's response and leaned against the doorway, one of his knees now bending slightly in his lax stance.

“Ugh. Just more petitions," Juanito mumbled.

“Okay, listen, I know Macaraig has a life outside of the Castilian Academy,” Tadeo said as he approached Juanito, completely ditching his watch post. “We just need to find it.”

The first thing Tadeo did was open one of the drawers at the side, and to his luck, he saw something eye-catching. Well, it was not anything scandalous, but buried underneath the mess was a photograph nonetheless of a man and a child. It was beautifully framed, and if these two men had not known any better, they would have thought they were looking at a picture of random strangers from Europe, even more so because the lighting made their skin look like it was glowing. The man was broad-shouldered, had a stylish moustache, and wore a clean and crease-free tailored suit. His back was straight as a board, with one hand behind his back and the other lightly holding onto the back of the chair where the younger boy sat.

The child was wearing a white suit, and he was looking right into the camera with such large and curious eyes. His posture was a lot more relaxed than the father, slightly slouching with his hands intertwined. The child had full and ruddy cheeks, possibly filled with all the spoiled goods he had been fed prior to the picture taking.

“Is that Macaraig?!” Juanito said, looking at the picture Tadeo was holding. “He’s so adorable!”

Tadeo held the photo close to his chest and stamped his feet. “I know! I wish I could go back in time and pinch his cheeks!”

“He had to be no more than ten years old when this was taken,” Juanito commented, taking the photo from his hand, “I just wish we could find another copy of this—wait!”

The two men looked down and saw another framed photo in the drawer. The circular-framed photo was smaller, but within the golden frame was the portrait of a beautiful young woman. She had a rather sharp features, with a prominent jawline and collarbone which contrasted with the delicate piña fabric she was wearing in the picture. Her eyes were dark, half-lidded and exuded an aura of aloofness and aristocratic arrogance, and her hair was rightfully ornamented and strung up in a tight bun that added to her allure.

But this was all Tadeo and Juanito needed to know. After they had put all the pieces together—the locked bedroom, the bottles of perfume, the lavishly furnished bed, the hidden picture—they could only conclude one thing.

“I knew it…” Tadeo gasped. “I knew Macaraig was seeing somebody!”

Tadeo grabbed the picture from the drawer and inspected the photo even more, viewing the picture from every angle. 

“We can finally tease him to our heart’s desires!” Juanito cheered.

"Ay, look at how smooth her neck is…" Tadeo oogled.

“Okay, there _has_ _to_ be a locket here somewhere with a strand of her hair in it, let’s go!”

"Is it here?" 

Juanito flipped open the jewelry box that was inside the drawer, and saw an endless array of pearls and onyx stones. 

"These are genuine," he added with his mouth gaping in awe. He held out one necklace and inspected it from every angle.

"Gifts for his lady?" Tadeo intimated.

"Ah, probably! I'll check for handkerchiefs, too!”

Juanito stayed in his spot, “carefully” going through the clutter inside Macaraig’s drawer, shuffling through his combs, pocket watch, and other accessories. Tadeo dashed to the other side of the room, inspecting the nightstands next to the bed. 

"This is exciting! Where do you think he met her? I haven't seen a woman like that around Manila or even in Los Baños!"

“Please let there be a locket, please let there be a locket, please let—”

“Wait, stop!” Juanito turned towards Tadeo, his face turning pale. “Did you hear something?”

“What…”

The two priers froze in silence as they heard muffled laughter beneath the floorboards and thumping noises coming from the staircase.

“Relax.” Tadeo's breathing began to hitch. “It’s probably just… the other housemates.”

They then heard a silvery laughter that stood apart from the low and boisterous laughter that rumbled earlier—a laugh they knew could come from one person alone. Tadeo sighed in frustration and looked at Juanito in disbelief.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Oh God, we have to go!” Juanito stammered before putting his hands all over the dresser. “Quick, fix up the whole place!”

“Hurry up, I have to put this back, too—What are you doing?!”

The chattering had already reached the second floor, and Juanito was still undoing the disarray that he had brought upon the dresser, scattering the petitions and rearranging the clutter in the drawer to the way it used to be. Tadeo had to tighten his grip on the photographs so that it would not slip from all the trembling. He knew there was no hope in running out anymore, so when his eyes darted towards the dark crook underneath Macaraig’s bed, his face lit up.

“Wait, Juanito, over here!”

Tadeo left the photographs on top of the dresser and dropped down on the floor, dragging himself underneath the bed, leaving squeaky noises as the soles of his shoes rubbed on the floor. Once he realized that Macaraig’s bed was big enough to hide two people underneath, he called out for Juanito again as he did earlier. He turned his head to where the dresser was and alas, there were no feet standing there. Actually, he did not see any pair of feet at all in the room. And to make matters worse, the door was not fully closed.

"Puta!”

Tadeo cursed his luck as it was already too late. The door slowly swung open, revealing to Tadeo’s limited vision a pair of polished leather shoes standing by the doorway; Tadeo could already tell from how shiny the shoes were that it was Macaraig. Tadeo felt his breath getting even shallower, watching as Macaraig took one cautious step forward and locked the door behind him. The silence terrified him, no doubt, especially when he was not the only person sharing it. 

He saw the feet walk towards where the dresser was, which made Tadeo feel like double-dead meat. He left the photographs on top of it, and the petition drafts looked so tampered it was almost comedic for it to be in such disarray. He had a feeling Macaraig went over the items because his figure lingered in front of the dresser the whole time. Tadeo was unconsciously waiting for a kissy noise from Macaraig but all he got was silence. 

Macaraig headed towards the nightstand next to his bed and seemed to have pulled out something from the drawer. Macaraig paced slowly around the bed, and finally spoke up in a low voice.

“If you come out now, you will make this easier for the both of us.”

Tadeo furrowed his eyebrows at Macaraig’s words. Who in the world did he think was inside his bedroom anyway? Bah, not that it mattered anyway, none of the capiz shell windows were open and the door was locked; there was no way he could escape, so he had to face the truth. Tadeo took a deep breath and stuck out one hand outside to anchor himself as he dragged himself out again. His face was still looking down on the floor, only seeing his blurry reflection. 

"Alright, alright, I surrender." 

He put his hands up respectively as he stood up, but then when he looked up, he saw a kitchen knife pointed at him and moving towards his face before stopping halfway in the air.

“Tade—?!”

Tadeo did not let him finish saying his name, as he cut him off with the longest and the most blood-curdling scream that his throat and lungs had ever mustered in his life. He crouched on the floor and sobbed while his hands moved to cover his face. He heard the kitchen knife drop on the floor in the middle of his yelling. 

“Wait, stop screaming!”

“Oh God!” Tadeo cried. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t kill me, I will never go inside your bedroom again, I’m so—!"

“It’s okay, just—!”

Tadeo then felt Macaraig’s warm hands hold his face and move his head towards his direction, which forced Tadeo to look Macaraig in the eyes. Fortunately, Macaraig’s expression was mirroring his as well—or at least, how Tadeo imagined he looked like. His face was rather pale, though his cheeks were flushed slightly from the fright. His eyes were bulging open and he even looked a bit teary-eyed. It was probably one of the only times Tadeo would ever see Macaraig look so rattled in his whole life; something which ironically made him calm down. At least he was assured that Macaraig had no intention of killing _ him. _ With that in mind, his head did not feel so hot now and his heart was not beating violently against his chest as much.

“Just… breathe…” Macaraig’s hands shaked as it moved from Tadeo’s cheeks to his shoulders, visibly trying to shake off the jittery feeling they were both feeling. Tadeo was just looking right at Macaraig's face with tear eyes until their therapy session was interrupted by rapid knocking against the door—his housemates.

“Uy, Macaraig!” One of the students called out. “Are you alright? We heard you all the way from downstairs!”

Macaraig took a shallow breath and looked towards the door.

“I’m fine!” He shouted back. “I just… I just saw a snake!" 

"Ah— A snake?!" 

"Ay, Santa Maria!" 

Tadeo heard hurried footsteps and high-pitched shrieking right outside the door before hearing the jumbled noises fade into silence. Tadeo bit his lip before speaking.

“Um… I’m sorry I broke into your bedroom—”

“Don't—,” Macaraig said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “It’s… It’s fine. It’s my fault, I didn’t lock the door on my way out. It was only natural for you to…”

Tadeo tried to even his breathing and dry out the tears that formed on his face.

"What... What did you expect to do with the body anyway?" 

"Me? I," Macaraig stuttered. "I… would have… my ways." 

"Like what? Toss me over the window?" 

"No..." he replied, his eyes glancing to the side. "Not, not that it matters, I wasn't expecting you."

Tadeo tried to sigh in relief, but it only came out as a shaky exhale.

“Alright then," he said, "If we’re done, then I guess I’ll be on my way—”

"No!" 

Tadeo was a muscle away from swinging the door open before Macaraig sprinted to the door, pressing his hand against it to slam it back shut. 

"Please don’t tell anyone this happened, do you understand?" Macaraig said with a stern voice. "No variation, no exaggeration, absolutely nothing. You can’t let anyone know about this."

“Uh—” Tadeo laughed nervously and with a quizzical expression on his face “—I don’t know how easy it is for me to forget this ever happened?”

“Then I’ll pay you.”

He blinked and opened and closed his mouth from the response. “Macaraig, I can’t just—”

“I’ll give you anything,” he insisted. “I can give you your own carriage, or a new house, I can pay for any meal you want. Anything you want from me, just name it, please, just don't tell anyone.”

Tadeo was alarmed from the large-scale generosity that Macaraig was exhibiting to him. He was even more concerned from the fact that Macaraig looked so desperate while he said it. He had to admit, the concept of having Macaraig feed him every day was tempting for him. But Macaraig was, shockingly enough, acting more stupid than Tadeo normally was, and he needed him to realize this.

"I'm not taking a payment." 

"Then you're not leaving my room," Macaraig replied back instantly.

"You're crazy!" Tadeo's jaw dropped. "You're really just going to trap me here?!" 

"So that it will be much easier for you to just take it," he said as he crossed his arms. 

It was evident Macaraig was stubborn about his deal. Tadeo was even close to asking him for a house of his own. However, he managed to bring himself back down to earth when he looked towards the photographs that were stacked on the dresser, remembering why he came to this room in the first place.

“Alright, you want a payment?” he spoke up, “I have another payment in mind.”

"Another currency?" Macaraig tilted his head.

“I... I want you to answer some questions for me, instead. Honestly.”

There was a pause before Macaraig replied.

"I don't pay with information." 

"It's just a bunch of stupid questions, um…" Tadeo rubbed his arm. "Nothing too incriminating." 

"Your concept of incrimination is very questionable given everything you've done." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tadeo pursed his lips. "I swear on my life!" 

“How many questions will you ask?”

“Ah… ah... ten.” Tadeo figured that he had to give way for more questions, if ever anything else popped into his head.

"That's too many," Macaraig commented. "Might as well steal my entire identity while you're at it."

"I'm just giving myself allowance. It doesn't mean I'll use them all."

Macaraig gazed at the ceiling in deep thought and, after a few seconds, looked back at Tadeo. 

"And how can I be so sure that nothing is going to leave this room?" 

Tadeo brought up his pointer finger in the air, supposedly ready to give an explanation before he realized there was none he could give. In internal panic, he looked around the room for a possible answer, until his gaze landed on the glint of the knife that had just fallen on the floor. Overwhelmed by his instinct, he swiped it off the ground and grabbed Macaraig's hand to slip the knife in between his loose grip. He stood back mechanically and watched as Macaraig widened his eyes, looking at the knife and then back at Tadeo.

"Now you're the one who's being crazy." Macaraig raised his eyebrow. "You really want to know me that badly?" 

"I broke into your room without your permission," Tadeo said, lowering his head so that he would only see Macaraig's shoes. "It's only fair that I get this type of punishment." 

Tadeo heard nothing but the sound of his heart beat painfully in his ears, his eyes still on the floor. Macaraig stood still in his peripheral vision for a few moments until Tadeo heard the sound of the blade striking the wooden floors.

“Deal." 

He then put his fist up in the air; the same hand he had used to hold the knife. is tally of all the questions that he would be asking. 

"You only have ten questions." 

Tadeo, now granted this opportunity to finally have Macaraig under his whims, nodded and went ahead and asked him questions that everyone needed answers to. Questions he did not even realize he wanted to ask until that very moment. He took one last deep breath before he began the interrogation.

“First question.” Tadeo clapped. “How… how did you become so rich?”

Macaraig gaped his mouth slightly before shutting it again. “I… honestly can’t tell you that.” He stuck out his pinky finger. “Next question.”

“Hold on, you were supposed to answer that! That was barely even an answer!”

“If I had the map to the fountain of youth, would I tell you where it was? No, right? It’s the same thing here.”

“How does that—Wait, what’s the fountain of youth?”

“Oh, it’s believed to be a body of water that basically rejuvenates you and grants you immortality.” Macaraig smiled smugly as he put up his ring finger. “Next question.”

Now it was Tadeo’s turn to gape his mouth in shock at the turn of events. 

“Wait—No! That doesn’t count, Macaraig! Take that back!”

Macaraig chuckled as he wiggled the two fingers sticking out from his hand. "Ay, ay, ay, you really need to learn how to spend wisely, Tadeo.”

Had anyone else spoken to Tadeo like that, he would have smacked that person all the way to the next century out of embarrassment. But because this was Macaraig he was dealing with, he chose to whine his way through it instead—as well as make the unfortunate mistake of blurting the first question that came to his head.

“Were you able to spend time with your family for Christmas, then!?”

His question somehow sounded more like a command than a question. God, what kind of a question was that, anyway? Even Macaraig jumped from it and stared at Tadeo wide-eyed.

“It’s just… Um…” Tadeo stammered, pacing backwards towards the dresser and grabbing the rectangular photograph. “I saw this picture and…” He looked down to point at the two figures within the frame. “I assumed the child is you and the man next to you was your father, so…”

When Tadeo looked up again, he saw Macaraig blankly gazing at the picture frame he was holding. His hands were hanging stiffly at his side.

“No, I…” Macaraig said roughly. “I didn’t. Couldn’t.”

“Oh… Uh…”

He started to feel guilty about having put Macaraig in the hot seat like this, so he offered to take back the deal.

“I'm sorry I didn't know that, we can just… stop here—”

Macaraig however, raised his hand up to stop him half-way.

“A payment is a payment,” he replied promptly, “I will see through it to the very end.”

Tadeo bit the inside of his lip and let the silence take over momentarily. He really should not be doing this, but if Macaraig insisted…

“Did something happen?”

Macaraig kept quiet for a bit, and stared at his hand as he stuck out his fourth finger before he spoke.

“They were gone before I decided to study in Manila," he began. “I don’t even know how my father died, he was the first to go. My mother and I were expecting him to return home one day from a business trip, until he didn’t. We didn't even get his body back."

Tadeo started to feel tense from the gravity of this discussion—not that it was Macaraig’s fault, of course. He just could not handle these types of conversations that were so serious, with little jokes here and there, so he looked around the room for some kind of escape.

“Can I open the windows?” 

Macaraig furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before looking towards the windows. “Um… Sure.”

Tadeo then walked towards the windows at the right side, sliding the large, capiz windows open. He was greeted with the fresh, cold morning breeze and a bustling street. The sounds of the taho vendors yelling and the rambunctiousness of the students seemed so distant from them. Macaraig walked towards Tadeo, who had already stepped aside to make sure he was not seen from the outside. He held onto the window ledge and looked out on the streets.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have talked about this--”

"No, don't worry about me, um—!" Tadeo thought of another question to keep the conversation going. “What... what about your mother?” 

“She fell ill,” he replied in a hoarse voice. “Not her fault. She was doing so well and worked so hard on her own. Ever since my father died, she was the one who took over everything. His work, his position… Then you know how it is, people found her weird and felt that she needed a partner. There was a time when numerous suitors came by to convince her to marry them."

Tadeo breathed in sharply through his teeth. "Ay." 

“I know,” Macaraig chuckled as he rolled his eyes. “I was so sick of seeing random men in our house all the time. I didn't know why she wouldn't marry them, one of them was really nice. She told me they were just going to pull her down. I never understood that until..." Macaraig's voice got even softer. "Actually, even long after she passed." 

“I’m really sorry,” Tadeo mumbled.

“Don’t be,” Macaraig said with a trembling smile. “I made it this far, haven’t I? There’s no point worrying about what has already happened, you know. Life goes on, so you might as well learn to move on.”

Tadeo smiled back faintly for the sake of being polite. “I guess it was easy for you to do that. Your relatives were probably there to—"

"She separated from them, too," Macaraig quickly interrupted. "Same reasoning. I guess she hates people that much."

"That sounds... lonely. Even for you."

“Lonely?” Macaraig leaned against the window and laughed. “I have been dealing with people nonstop for as long as I can remember. All the family obligations, all the formalities. And I took over my father and mother’s connections and made even more connections than they ever had. I have never been alone, and I never will be.”

"It might be like that, but..." Tadeo turned his gaze to observe the people walking by the sidewalk. “Sometimes even when you’re surrounded by so many people… you still feel like you are alone.”

When he glanced at Macaraig, who was giving him a piqued look, he jumped after realizing the seriousness of _ his _discussion. “I wasn’t referring to the Castilian Academy guys, by the way, they’re… they’re all good.”

“I know.” Macaraig smiled gently, which made Tadeo feel slightly conscious about himself. “Although… It sounds like you had a horrible Christmas, hm?”

Tadeo tensed up at the question. “Is... It's that obvious?"

“A little bit, but that's alright." Macaraig said with a smile. “But I guess I don’t feel so guilty now, relaying all of this information to you.”

Seeing Macaraig smile at him like that gave Tadeo a churning, ugly feeling in his chest that he could not quite place at that moment. Perhaps it was the vulnerability he was showing, or the fact that he still smiled despite saying one of the most depressing stories Tadeo ever heard. He was not sure at that point. 

“I'm such an ass," he groaned.

"Why?"

“You're sharing such personal stuff about yourself to me, when I came here just because I wanted to learn about your love life.”

The ugly feeling in his chest finally disappeared and Tadeo could finally sigh in relief, but when he looked at Macaraig, he was giving him a judgmental stare. _‘Yeah’_, he thought, ‘_I expected that._’

“What did you think I kept locked in here? A secret lover?”

“Yeah!” Tadeo answered excitedly. “I mean, look at this girl!” Tadeo walked back to the dresser and showed the circular frame which contained a photo of the woman. “She’s really gorgeous, Macaraig! She looks all rich and confident, like you. Why didn’t you tell us about her?”

When Tadeo saw the wide-eyed look Macaraig was giving him, he just _ knew _he got it wrong. Boy, did he and Juanito get it all wrong.

“Tadeo, I already did," Macaraig mumbled. “That... that's my mother.”

Tadeo blankly stared at Macaraig. He had a feeling that it was his mother the first time, but his dumb self wanted to believe that there was something more to it. He slowly turned the photo over, so he could see it, and looked back and forth between the picture of the mother and Macaraig.

“Oh… Well… You two do share the same eyes,” he pointed out. 

“You guys are so obscene.” Macaraig frowned. “Did you really think I’d be keeping this kind of information from you?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t usually open up about stuff like this!”

“If I really was interested in someone, you would see it right through my face.” Macaraig looked to the side. “Besides, I have never really courted anyone… You know how it is. The Castilian Academy got me kind of busy.”

“Come on, don’t lie to me!” Tadeo laughed and waved off his comment. “You existed long before the Castilian Academy has; you _ must _have had interest in someone before then, at the least. You probably left a trail of broken hearts wherever you went, too!”

Macaraig shrugged, still keeping his eyes off Tadeo’s. "That's not my concern."

“Well…” Tadeo laughed nervously and rubbed his neck. “I guess that’s not something all men think about…”

Macaraig finally looked back at Tadeo, his dark eyes piercing through his gaze. He took a deep breath and raised his hand before speaking. “Anyway, you’ve spent all your questions now, so… I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“Oh…” Tadeo gulped. “Right. Sorry.”

Tadeo put the picture of Macaraig’s mother on top of the dresser and walked towards the door. Macaraig’s eyes followed his every step.

“Make sure nobody sees you on your way out.”

“Got it.”

Tadeo reached out for the doorknob, but then as his fingers brushed against it, he looked back at Macaraig, who was putting away the pictures back in the drawer. He could not help but notice how straight his back looked as well as he did all of this; it did not even look like he was at home in his own bedroom. He held the doorknob and slowly opened it, making sure that it did not creak as he did so. When he peeked through the gap and saw the hallway rid of any students, he comfortably swung it open.

“Tadeo—”

He turned his head and saw Macaraig right behind him, holding the knife—pointed downwards, thank God—against his chest with both his hands.

“Um… Please take this back to the kitchen.”

Tadeo glanced at Macaraig’s arms, now outstretched to him with the knife on hand.

“Yeah…”—he looked back at his eyes— “Sure thing.”

One hand took the knife while the other one opened the door. He heard the door slam shut the moment he stepped out.

Tadeo took the time to inspect the knife from all angles as he registered everything that had just happened. He noted the sharpness of the edge, and the way it comfortably fit the palm of his hand. The blade, however, had an uneven luster to it. One side of the blade looked shinier than the other side, which looked clouded and—based from how it felt against Tadeo’s fingernails—was rough to the touch.

It was only at this point that Tadeo realized Macaraig still owed him one last question. But instead of turning back to tell him, he decided to forego the question altogether and he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact i delayed writing any detail about macaraig's room and his house for like a year because i don't trust my taste in interior design. i still don't


	7. The Bet

Tadeo did not have any nightmares of Macaraig killing him since the bedroom incident. It was scary, really. Macaraig had been treating him normally ever since—probably a bit too normally. He always greeted him with a bright smile when they would run into each other, just like he would always do, and slapped his shoulder whenever he would laugh and joke around with him and the students while they stood side by side. Even until now, as he stood across the sala from him, Macaraig smiled and waved at Tadeo when he caught his wandering gaze. Tadeo raised his hand up limply, trying to smile and laugh off the nervousness just like he had been doing for the past days. He was consciously shoving to the back of his head the time he had nearly died under Macaraig's hands. In fact, he might as well be dead right now, and this whole sequence he was living in was just something his head concocted as his life was flashing before his eyes. 

"Hey, Tadeo!" Juanito's booming voice interrupted his then-forming train of thought, making Tadeo flinch in the process. He quickly turned to where Juanito was seated.

"What? What did I do this time?!" He stammered, bracing himself for another intellectual attack by Sandoval, who was unfortunately present in the group, along with Pecson and Juanito. Who knows, maybe he said something stupid as usual. 

"Hey, relax, you didn't do anything." Sandoval chuckled as he replied. "But… Are you okay? You've been a bit distant from us these past days." 

"Haaa'm fine," he managed to choke out. 

"I don't mean to pry but," he continued, "You've been acting weird around Macaraig lately. Did anything happen?" 

"Ha?" Tadeo started to stutter and glanced towards Macaraig's direction, relieved that he was not looking back. "Of course not! You know, may-maybe he's the one acting weird around me." 

"No, there's definitely something up," Pecson butted in, his arms crossed as he leaned back in his seat. "I know you lied about your first encounter with Macaraig before, but I think you guys have a history together."

"History!" Tadeo laughed. "What history, I… I hate studying history." 

"Well, you see…" Sandoval glanced towards the other students before speaking "Pelaez told us you broke into Macaraig's bedroom the other day. And you were inside for quite a long time too." 

Tadeo snapped his turned his head towards Juanito, who was now sinking into his seat.

"Juanito, what the hell?!" 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Juanito clasped his hands in a prayer position and waved it frantically to Tadeo. "It's just that I was so confused and yet intrigued, and the fact that he let you stay was even more intriguing--" 

"Nothing happened!" Tadeo asserted. "And besides, if _ you _ had been with me, you would also realize that nothing happened at all!" 

"Idiot," Pecson spat, "In case this isn't obvious enough to you, Macaraig would have dragged Juanito's ass to the Pasig River and drown him in cold blood if he took even one step into that bedroom. You have known Macaraig for the shortest time among all of us, and yet he seems the most comfortable letting you into his personal space." 

Tadeo found himself speechless from Pecson's comment for a few seconds, even questioning if Macaraig really thought that way about him. Not that it mattered; there was an amazing comeback that had to be said so he could have the upper hand once again.

"Well... To be fair, only a dumbass would be okay with being alone with Juanito in their bedroom!" 

"Excuse me?!" Juanito nearly jumped off from the couch from the shock. "You were with me on this, too!"

"'Too'?" Pecson and Sandoval both exclaimed at the same time.

"It was all Tadeo's fault, okay?" Juanito cried out in a whiny voice, pointing at the perpetrator.

"What?!"

Tadeo absolutely hated how Juanito's mind worked sometimes, and how it felt like he was constantly battling him on who could be the biggest asshole in Manila. He could just leap on his couch and choke Juanito to death, but the latter continued wailing.

"He insisted that I break into his room and I said no but then I went along 'cause I was forced to, and Tadeo is just so, so mean!" 

"Are you kidding me? You were the one who suggested that I—!"

"Hey, everyone!" Macaraig greeted from behind the couch across them, making Juanito and Tadeo yelp from the shock. "You boys have been in high spirits for awhile, so I got a little curious and checked on you all."

"Impeccable timing as always, Macaraig," Pecson remarked. 

"Why? What were you all talking about?"

Juanito, slick as always, changed his facial expression from panicky to suave before Macaraig could even register the crocodile tears in his eyes. 

"Well, well, why don't you ask dear Tadeo about what we've been talking about, Señor?" Juanito nudged Macaraig and winked. "I'm sure he would love to talk about it!" 

Tadeo scowled at Juanito and grumbled, and he wondered how in the world he had the spawn of Satan as a best friend, of all creatures. But when he saw Macaraig looking right at him knowingly (and, unfortunately, making him recall the events on that day), he felt compelled to cover for him.

"Well, we…" He kept looking at Macaraig's eyes as he spoke, keeping his eyes from wandering to the other members present. "We talked about me." 

A series of confused expressions scattered across everyone's faces, including Macaraig's.

"You?" 

"Yeah, um—" Tadeo bit his lip slightly "—They kept asking about why I was in your bedroom the other day and I was going to say it was because I needed personal advice…" 

Even Tadeo could not believe the lie that he was just telling. As if anyone would buy such a concept. Tadeo, a poor boy who needed _advice?_ What kind of universe did they live in! 

"... It was very personal, I felt like I had to open up to Macaraig alone in his bedroom when I had the chance, so no one would hear. My bad, I know you're still upset I broke into your room that day." 

The whole group was stunned in silence from Tadeo's earnest response; not even Macaraig could keep up with his act. Sandoval even moved his hand to give Tadeo awkward, hesitant pats on the back. 

"But then..." Juanito's eyes darted around as he thought of a question. "What about the pictures?"

"They were mine. I planted them beforehand just so I would have a reason to go to Macaraig's room." He looked away. "That was why the room was already unlocked when we got there. My key matched Macaraig's door." 

Oh God, if he had not known any better, this would be the most elaborate and potentially the most confusing lie he ever made. Tadeo always swore to himself that he could not come up with a more confusing and flawed lie, but he always surprised himself every time. 

"That's the reason why you're not going to class, then?" Pecson asked. "Personal problems?"

Tadeo's voice came out small. "No…" 

"Ah!" Sandoval snapped his fingers. "You have suffocated so much under the hands of the friars you refuse to see them, and the trauma made you forget what it's like to be in class!" 

"What kind of a bullshit reason is that?" Pecson remarked. Still, Tadeo shook his head.

"Well… Is the workload difficult for you, then—" 

"Come on, guys, it's like you don't even know me!" Tadeo interrupted the students and laughed as he leaned back into his couch with his hands behind his head. "You know, I don't want to go to school simply because I don't want to go. It's just that shallow." 

Tadeo couldn't care less about the comments of the other guys contesting his reasons, but when he saw Macaraig silently looking at him with his eyebrows creased in worry, he felt like taking back everything he said, regretting having caused any unnecessary concern. Again.

"If that's the case then…" Macaraig stood up straight, his worried face shifting into complete calm. "Then I have a proposition for you." 

"Me?"

He nodded. "This has been on my mind for awhile now, actually. Now that we are on the discussion about your lax schooling habits, I feel the need to say that regardless of your reasons, I need you to understand where we are coming from, both as students of this university and members of this association. I know you have your own problems, but you can't stay ignorant forever. It is not enough for you to base everything off of hearsay, since everyone experiences oppression differently. In fact, you may not even experience it at all, but that is already a statement in itself." 

_ ‘Oh God, Macaraig is speaking in tongues again_,' Tadeo thought. He saw Sandoval and Pecson nodding attentively at Macaraig. 

"I guess what I want to say is..." Macaraig adjusted his tie a bit before continuing "I want you to go to class." 

Everyone present had their own reaction to the request.

"Oho!" 

"About time."

"What an interesting request!" 

"Excuse me?" Tadeo squinted. 

"It seems that nothing is really stopping you to go to school except yourself. At the very least, attend all your classes tomorrow, just this once. I think you will be able to observe what's wrong with the system from just one session, wouldn't you say, folks?" Macaraig turned to the rest of group, who nodded once again.

"Who are you? My father?" Tadeo scoffed a bit too bitterly. "What makes you think you can make me go?" 

Macaraig's gaze shifted sharply to Tadeo. "Because if you do this, I will answer every single meal of everyone in the Association for an entire year. That is my reward."

Tadeo's blood ran cold from his challenge, and unfortunately, only he was the one who felt the gravity of his words. Everyone else's faces said otherwise; they all gasped in pleasant surprise, some to the point of wheezing, and they all had glints in their eyes from the lovely proposition Macaraig brought up.

"Tadeo, you better go to class tomorrow or you are dead to me!" Pecson threatened Tadeo after nearly drifting off into dreamland from the thought of free food for months on end. 

"Yay, yay, can't wait for the free meals! Thanks, Macaraig!" Juanito clapped his hands giddily. 

"Pelaez, you are the last person in this group who needs that kind of privilege." 

"And just to make it clear," Macaraig added, "You need to sit through the entire period. Don't step into the classroom and then run away, and don't show up during the roll call and then disappear suddenly. That won't count." 

"Damn," Tadeo laughed. "You really know me. But sure, I will take you up on that challenge!" 

_ As if he is going to check, anyway,_ he thought to himself. Besides, while Macaraig was laying the perimeters of the bet, Tadeo was already plucking out the loopholes. Macaraig only mentioned going to class "tomorrow" so if by chance, classes would be suspended tomorrow miraculously, for any reason, then Tadeo can use that as an excuse, and potentially use his words against him. And who knows, Macaraig will be spending for their food for the rest of the year without Tadeo having to go through hell for it because he had beaten Macaraig in his own game! Tadeo could almost grin from his ingenious plan, but seeing Macaraig look at him, still, with an unfazed expression made him decide to keep his cool as well. 

"We're counting on you, Tadeo!" Juanito said as he jumped up from his seat. "Anyway, you guys want merienda? I am hun-gry!" 

Sandoval and Pecson, still sporting beaming smiles, sat up from their seats and started to follow Juanito out the room. 

"Hey, you two, come with us!" Sandoval called out.

Macaraig waved him off. "Yes, yes, we will follow you." 

Once the triad had vanished from their sights, Macaraig turned towards Tadeo, who had a smug grin on his face, and sighed as he walked closer.

"Tadeo, that story you just gave the group earlier…" He frowned. "You couldn't be any farther from the truth." 

"You're welcome!" Tadeo hopped off his couch and gave an exaggerated bow. "What can I say? I am an expert in drawing attention away." 

"If anything, you just made it worse?" His look of disapproval intensified. "Now everyone is just going to have that stuck in their minds whenever they talk to you. You're lucky their mood changed so quickly earlier because I had to draw the attention away from you, too."

_'How ungrateful!' _was all Tadeo could think. He just covered his ass by coming up with some on-the-spot story that made Tadeo the pitiful one, and now he was being criticized for it? Tadeo crossed his arms and pouted from his frustration.

"Could you at least thank me for lying for you, then?" 

Macaraig raised his eyebrow. "'Thank you for lying'? Do you even hear yourself when you speak?" 

And then, to prove his point, Macaraig pinched the corners of Tadeo's lips and held it in between his thumb and index finger, making Tadeo's lips look even poutier. Tadeo tensed up in shock from the grip, especially when Macaraig's fingers were already grazing the corners of his lips.

"'Hey, Macaraig, can you please praise me for doing something that is immoral and horribly detrimental to either my reputation or someone else's, pleeeease?'" Macaraig said in a squeaky, high-pitched voice and moved his fingers accordingly to make it appear like Tadeo was saying it through his puckered lips. "See? Honestly, you are looking for praise in all the wrong places. You have better use of your time and wit." 

Tadeo felt more attacked from Macaraig's last comment than the actual poor imitation of his voice. Still, he decided to say, "I dom't shound like dat," and stared with his still-puckered lips.

Macaraig sighed and drew his hand back, making the cool air hit Tadeo's jaw again. "I'll thank you once you finish all your classes tomorrow. Alright?" 

Tadeo winced when he said "his classes". 

"Fine. Sure." 

"And no more lying, please." 

Tadeo scoffed and laughed. "You're starting to sound like my teacher back home." 

"Well, maybe that is for the best." Macaraig shrugged and crossed his arms. "And it's for your own good too, okay? You'll be thanking me one day."

Then Macaraig put his hand up to Tadeo's cheek and lightly slapped it to seal the end of the conversation. "Anyway, we should go after them. I think I know where they will be eating." 

And with that, Macaraig gave one last smile and walked out of the room. Tadeo stood still and stared agape at the doorway from which Macaraig exited. His dry throat ached and itched as he gulped down air, and he found himself lifting his fingertips up to mindlessly trace the outline of his lips.


	8. Serendipity

Tadeo regretted having put Macaraig up for the challenge the moment he saw the front of the University of Santo Tomas up close.

A flurry of students were talking everywhere, some were attempting to catch up to their lessons, while others were waiting near where the coaches would stop, hoping to catch a glimpse of a pretty woman's ankle; Tadeo would have joined the last group if he was not so utterly restless. It was the peak of amihan, and yet, Tadeo felt like he was standing right in front of the fiery gates of hell—like he was going to combust if he went any closer.

"Tadeo!" Someone yelled from behind him, slinging his arm around his shoulder. When Tadeo turned his head to meet the eyes of the person, he realized that he was greeted by Ventanilla, a student whom he often ran into, for better or worse, since they shared the same classes. "I didn't expect to see you here! You'd usually be running off around this time. It's almost time for class." 

Tadeo laughed sharply. "Weird, right? I think I have lost my mind!" His eyes shone a little bit in what appeared to be glee, but in reality, one could see his eyes begging for help and crying out, '_ Macaraig, why, why are you making me do this?' _

"Hey, don't worry. I know you'd be begging for help because you’re falling behind in your classes, so I wrote some notes for you!" Ventanilla quickly pulled out the sheets of folded paper which were slipped in between the pages of his Biology book that had been tucked under his arm, and lifted it up in useless pride. "A student's always gotta be prepared!" 

Tadeo recounted all the subjects he had passed without having read a single word and waved Ventanilla off. "Don't need 'em." 

"Huh? You don't? Well, I guess I was able to review by rewriting my notes." Ventanilla shrugged and tucked away the sheets of paper under his arm. "Anyway, I heard you're suddenly working with Macaraig and his friends in that Castilian Academy thing? What's up with that?" 

"What do you mean?"

Ventanilla cocked an eyebrow. "Don't act like you forgot! I remember you clearly telling me some time ago that the project is useless and the people behind it are masochistic lunatics. What, you've gone loco too?"

Tadeo looked around as he spoke, making sure nobody heard him, and chuckled nervously. "Well—" Tadeo pulled himself away from Ventanilla's grip. "—Maybe they are not as bad as I thought they'd be… People change, right?" 

Ventanilla shrugged and patted Tadeo's shoulder a couple times before pulling away. "Alright, whatever you say. Just don't get infected by their radical ideas, got it? I'm just looking out for you." 

'_Looking out for who?' _Tadeo internally spat. He had no time to be spiteful, however. Tadeo was too busy feeling doomsday approaching for every breath he took. He swore he saw the silhouette of a friar walking across the hallway through the window, and he cringed. His classmate continued talking about what had happened the previous days, how they had to contribute money for the birthday of a certain friar, and the like. He looked around and saw Isagani talking to a group of meticulously dressed students, presumably Ateneans, and Juanito laughing hysterically while talking to a mortified student. He was about to lose all hope until he saw a carriage turn up nearby the University: his lottery ticket. 

His quick eye was able to catch a pair of dainty feet descend from the coach before disappearing behind a lengthy skirt. As his gaze traveled upwards, he saw a feather-like hand holding the hem of her dress as she moved away from the coach. If his eyes moved even higher, he can imagine a petite waist hiding behind piña cloth, slim collarbones, and finally a face and neck sculpted by Aphrodite herself. She exuded confidence and glamour despite the veil hanging over her head, and the gawking eyes of everyone surrounding her could attest to it. All Tadeo could think of at that point was, '_Brilliant! My lottery ticket!_ _Truly serendipitous! '_No one could possibly blame him for being distracted from such a stunning woman, right? Even the boys back at Macaraig's house would say the same! 

As he saw the woman moving towards where the Church was, his mouth babbled on its own.

"God, what a woman! Tell the professor I am horribly sick!"

"What? But you're already here—”

"No time, no time! If I stay any longer, I'm going to collapse and die! See you!" 

Tadeo hurriedly waved goodbye to Ventanilla as he ran towards the direction of the church, unable to hold back rolling his eyes and groaning in annoyance once he was far enough away from him.

The woman had already gone into the church by the time Tadeo arrived at the entrance. He was welcomed with a humid warmth that enveloped him, and with the sight of the blinding gold altar shining right before him. It was difficult to miss the high-ceiling frescoes overhanging the church, the glossy brown pews, and the colored image of Santo Domingo underneath his shimmering golden arch. But Tadeo had another sparkling thing that caught his eye, and it was sitting there near the front of the altar. 

Noting the presence of the elderly sacristans that were near the altar, Tadeo did a hasty sign of the cross and genuflected at the main aisle, his eyes still locked on his target. The church was rather empty, so it was not difficult to stay focused on the girl. Tadeo mentally counted how many pews away the woman was, and calculated which was the optimum place from which he can see her features without being obvious—the most math he had ever used in his life. He decided to sit two rows away from her and at the opposite end of the pew where she was. 

The view did not disappoint. The veil looked more transparent now, as Tadeo was able to make out the more specific features of her face, like where her eyelashes were, the curvature of her round, button nose, and the smoothness of her neck. His nose tingled from the delicious scent that was coming from her, and he could have sworn God was ready to take him right there and then. It was perfect. She was perfect. Any man would find her pretty, so he could not be blamed for skipping class for this, right? If he could get a view of her face from every single angle without having to move a single muscle, then he would be the luckiest man in the country! 

But the woman was, for some reason, stiff as a statue. With the exception of her elderly companion, who was constantly squirming in her itchy and flashy dress, the younger woman was not moving. Tadeo wanted to cause a racket or throw something in their direction so she could turn around and he would not be so bored, but the sacristans were eyeing him from the other side of the church. Annoyed, he decided to play his part and clasped his hands tightly in prayer with his elbows resting on the pew, praying as hard as he was expected to. 

The ringing in his ears got louder as time went on, and his eyes started to sting the longer they stayed open. His eyelids were threatening to drop, and Tadeo thought to himself maybe if he let himself sleep for just a few seconds, only a few seconds, he would be able to stay alert for the rest of the time. Before he could even make the decision, his eyelids already betrayed him, and his vision went black. It was hard to unclamp his eyelids, and it felt nice to have his eyes shut. It was peaceful, having no care in the world. His head was nodding as it tried to keep him awake, but to no avail. 

Tadeo would have been a goner in a minute if it were not for the sudden slamming sound that echoed throughout the walls of the church. He jolted awake and, immediately remembering his reason for coming here, shifted his gaze back at the woman, who was still praying fervently while kneeling down. Thank God, she was still there, so not much time had passed. Tadeo began to wonder if women really needed this routine wherein they would be trained to be on their knees for hours on end. It was such a waste of time. He did not know how long these daily novenas were supposed to last. 

He was about to stand and give up on his quest until he saw a robust-looking man sit on the row behind the woman's, albeit sitting dangerously closer to the woman than Tadeo was. Tadeo's eye twitched at the audacity of the man to block his view like that! But the way the man looked from the back looked awfully familiar. His suit was stiff, free of creases, and perfectly cloaked the broad shoulders of the man. Tadeo can also tell by the man's haircut that he had his hair neatly combed, a noticeable characteristic of the rich men he had encountered in Manila. Like Macaraig. The man seemed to have the same idea as he did, as Tadeo noticed how the man kept turning his head towards the direction of the woman. Tadeo caught a glimpse of the man during this time and observed that his nose was not too sharp but not too flat either. Just like Macaraig’s.

Confusion began to settle into Tadeo’s mind as the student started scooting around in his pew, this time to get a glimpse of this mysterious man who used to block his view but then became the view. This could not be Macaraig, right? Was he pretending to spy on Tadeo? But that made no sense because he would have sat somewhere where Tadeo was in front of him, not behind him. 

His eyes now glued to the man, Tadeo scooted towards him and it felt as if his fears materialized when he started to smell a strong perfume as he got closer to him. If he was not there to spy on Tadeo, was he also spying on the woman? Was he lying the whole time and he was really into women? His thoughts nearly drove Tadeo insane. 

It was only after he had stood up from the kneeler and turned around that Tadeo finally got to calm down. It was not Macaraig at all; it was just another fancy man dressed in fancy clothes and had a fancy, curled mustache. Tadeo let out a sigh of relief he did not even know he had been holding. It was not like it mattered if Macaraig was there or not, right? Or if he really was into women? No, it did not matter. It was not important. He was just concerned he would be caught cutting class. 

Tadeo was very much distracted by the whole debacle that he did not realize the woman had finally, finally stood up from her seat. To make sure he went ahead of her, Tadeo immediately stood up from the kneeler and ran out towards the church door, making sure the woman could not catch a glimpse of his face. He leaned against the church door in a lax pose, pretending that the passer-bys in front of the church did not just see him nearly slip on his way out. It took forever for the woman to leave the church, walking out the door just as solemnly as she did when she headed inside. Tadeo took one last look at her side profile and backside before hurriedly making his leave and dashing towards Macaraig's house to tell the news.

Tadeo ran to the sala and saw Pecson, Juanito and Isagani seated together, minding their own business. He waved at them cheerfully, the excitement he felt from seeing the woman coming back into his body.

"Tadeo!" Juanito waved. "I haven't seen you all day, I was worried! How are you feeling?" 

"'How am I feeling?'" Tadeo slammed his hands on the back of the sofa, unable to contain his giddiness. "Juanito, I feel fantastic! I just saw the prettiest woman today!" 

"Ooh! Tell us, tell us!" Juanito rapidly clapped his hands.

"I don't care!" Pecson spat. "Did you go to class today?" 

"Later, later," Tadeo dismissed Pecson with a dismissive wave, looking over at Juanito, as he was keen on listening to his story. "So I followed her into the church that was near the university earlier today—" 

"So you didn't go?" 

"—And I sat a few pews behind her, enough to smell her sweet, sweet perfume. It reminded me of how Macaraig smells like, you know? Sweet, but kinda strong to the nose?"

"What?" Isagani blinked his eyes, but Tadeo kept talking. 

"And the way you could see the curve of her shoulders through the veil she wore?" He swooned. "The top of her dress hugged her waist oh-so-perfectly! I had to keep my distance because she was with a creepy-lookin señora, the one who looks like her white skin is going to get peeled off by the wind.”

"Tadeo… But that woman you were talking about…" Isagani then squinted at him. "Were you just stalking my girlfriend?" 

Tadeo smiled and blinked. "Ha? Girlfriend?" 

Juanito tapped his chin with his finger. “Well, if it's the church near the university, that must be the Church of Santo Domingo, and if you were at Santo Domingo this morning…” He gasped. “Why, you _ are _ talking about Paulita Gomez!"

Pecson howled as he laughed, turning to the frowning Isagani. "Oh, boy. This will be fun!"

Tadeo had heard of the name Paulita Gomez numerous times by Isagani, since he knew he did not shut up about her from the day he officially began courting her. He had never gotten a chance to meet her until this day. 

"Oh… Wow, that was her? Well!" Since he did not want to trigger a timebomb, he went and shook Isagani's hand enthusiastically despite Isagani's sour expression. "She is a stunning catch, my friend. The most beautiful woman! You're very lucky!" 

Isagani's hand squeezed Tadeo's like a warning. "You're lucky I'm not in the mood to fight you right now," he shot back at him.

"Aba, this is nothing like you—!" 

"Isagani, there you are!" 

Tadeo heard Macaraig's voice from behind him, and he was suddenly bracing himself for something, whatever that was. The rabid footsteps got closer to the sala, and when he looked over and saw Macaraig next to him, he could only his profile, still graceful as ever, no stray hair sticking out of place despite appearing to have ran. 

"How was the meeting with Señor Pasta?" 

"Pasta? His name is Pasta?" Tadeo mused, but nobody responded to him. Isagani kept quiet for a while, his shoulders drooping before he spoke up and made eye contact with everyone present before speaking. 

"Maybe we really should talk to Pepay," he muttered. Juanito and Pecson, who were seated close enough to him to hear his soft voice, cheered and clapped rapidly. 

Tadeo tilted his head. "Pepay?" 

"Got it!" Juanito hopped off the sofa and flashed a grin at the group while rubbing his hands. And Tadeo still had no idea what was going on. "Alright, I already came up with a plan. So I will go ask Pepay when she's free after her dance lessons—" 

"You were really planning to talk to that woman no matter what the result was, huh?" Isagani interjected.

"—and I will arrange a meeting between her and Macaraig!" 

"What?" Tadeo was the first to express his shock. He turned his head to Macaraig, who seemed to be annoyed as well.

"Couldn't you do it? You already know her." 

"Yes, well," Juanito explained, "I figured she would be more captivated by you than by me because you're just so charismatic. She would listen wholeheartedly to your request, so be proud!" 

_ Captivated _? Tadeo repeated the word to himself mentally, and he felt a strange churning feeling in his stomach. Was he going to court her, then? Why doesn't he know what is happening? Who is this Pepay woman, anyway?! 

"You're just saying that because you are too lazy to negotiate." Macaraig crossed his arms and looked at him with a twitching eye.

"That’s because you know the correct words to use to sway others more than anyone! And you have been working on the project since the beginning." 

"So have you." 

For once, Tadeo hated not understanding or contributing enough to the discussion, so he had to speak up and say whatever was on his mind.

"Ah… I see. Do you mean Macaraig is going to seduce her to convince her about our petition?" 

Tadeo was greeted with silence as soon as he finished speaking. Everyone turned their heads to him, with each of them displaying varying degrees of scandalization on their faces. Isagani, the most prudish and chivalrous in the group, was the most mortified from it. 

"Gross." 

Juanito gasped as he covered his mouth. "His mind actually went there!" 

"Come on, you were thinking it!" Tadeo called out. 

"I know, but you said it!" 

"Do I look like a womanizer to you?" Macaraig questioned, but with Tadeo's increasing anxiety, it sounded like a threat. "I would never stoop that low. She is a dignified woman with her own interests, just as I am a dignified man." 

Despite the judging looks of everyone in the room, Tadeo sighed in relief, surprised his body had been tense for a well. 

"Good, 'cause the way you guys talk about her made it seem like…" 

"No," Isagani said with a frown. "Your dirty mind is what makes this whole conversation sound perverted. Have some dignity, will you?"

“For shame, for shame,” Pecson added with a smug smile.

"Shut up!" 

Isagani continued showing grimace despite Tadeo's cry, but Macaraig was able to piece together what was going on. 

"Oh, I understand now…" he mused. "You weren't here earlier so you don't know these people, do you?" 

"There was a meeting?"

"I couldn't find you," he replied, "And I assumed you had classes to attend, so I did not want to disturb you."

Tadeo laughed nervously and rubbed his upper arm. "Ah, um, about that…" 

Macaraig blinked before making an unamused face. "Don't tell me." 

"No, I did go!" 

Bad move. Macaraig began asking questions about what happened in class, and Tadeo guessed them all. Chemistry class. Something about suman. The professor was Father Feliciano. Everyone present in the group was watching the exchange so intently, one swore he saw some of their foreheads getting drenched in sweat. 

"So? He went, right?” Pecson asked again impatiently. 

Somehow, Tadeo could tell from Macaraig’s eyes already that he had already seen through his lies. 

“Ah, well, you see…” His hands fumbled before he turned towards Pecson. “I got news from a certain student that Tadeo wasn’t at class today.”

Tadeo gulped.

“Ha?!”

“Who… Who said…”

“He’s not an active member of the Association, but he’s still affiliated with us.” Macaraig’s gaze was on the ground. “Ventanilla.”

“Ventanilla...?” The name did not sink in at first, but the memories of that morning came rushing through his head, and when he remembered the face of that snake, he gasped and clenched his fists in frustration. “Ventanilla?! Ay, that son of a bitch!”

"Well, I'm done!" Pecson sat up from the sofa, raising his hands up as he backed away from the group. "I should've known it was a hopeless mission. Imagine! You were already incentivized to go to class and yet you _ still _did not do it. Meanwhile, we don't even get anything for going!" 

"Pecson, Pecson, calm down," Isagani said as he grabbed Pecson from behind, dragging him away from the group because it looked like he was about to claw Tadeo in the face in an arm’s length. 

"You really are so shameless!" 

“So no food?” Juanito pursed his lips into a pouty frown and he stood up dejectedly to walk towards where Pecson and Isagani were heading.

“What is with you, guys? It is not a big deal!” Tadeo cried out as he saw the rest of the group walk away in comical dejectedness. “If you’d just imagine what it was like in my shoes…!” 

Tadeo's shouting seemed to be in vain, as everyone else had walked away from the sala and out of the living quarters, clearly ranting to each other as they got farther away from him. The only person who stayed behind was Macaraig, who watched as the group left the room before looking back at Tadeo. Tadeo groaned at the childishness of his fellow members.

"Don't worry about it too much, Tadeo," Macaraig said as he placed his hand on Tadeo's shoulder. He smiled at Tadeo, although it looked tighter and more unnatural compared to the more genuine and wider smiles he had sported before. "They are just tired." 

Macaraig walked away right as he said it. Tadeo, now abandoned, watched as he walked up the stairs, and he imagined he was as dejected as everyone else as well.. Every fluttery feeling he had been experiencing since earlier dissipated the longer he stared at the last footstep Macaraig took before he disappeared to the upper floor. 

Tadeo went back to his boarding house earlier than usual that day, and all he could think about was how much happier everyone would be if he had gone to class, and how much brighter Macaraig's smile would have looked like. He slept that evening with an ugly ache eating up his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know ventanilla is such a weird name but if rizal can name a character camaroncoccido then i can name my character ventanilla
> 
> also i just slipped a white chicks reference there for no legitimate reason im sorry. i thought this fic was going to be better but its not
> 
> also i know this fic is canon divergent and not canon compliant to the bone but i did try my best to make it work w canon so it overlaps! so what im saying is we've entered the el fili verse already and you can kinda parallel it to the actual chapters hopefully ehehe thank you so much for being patient with me despite my slow updates lol


	9. Ambitions

"And so," Tadeo said with a sigh, "I didn't go to class like I promised to the group, and now they don't want to talk to me." 

The lone listener to his story, Basilio, hummed in a low voice as he turned the page of the book he was reading. He was sitting on his desk in the opposite side of the room, while Tadeo was laying on his stomach on the couch, his chin tucked in between his folded arms, and recounting the recent events that happened to his life: from joining the Association to the unfortunate bet he had lost the other day. If there was one thing Tadeo was sure of himself, it was that if he had to go to Basilio to talk or rant about something, then that meant he was pushed to a different level of desperation. This was because he knew talking to Basilio felt like talking to a wall, and also because he was completely aware both parties are just as uninterested to have each other as the only company to talk to. More than that, if he was forced to talk to Basilio, he would have to share a roof with the infamous, bed-ridden opium addict, Kapitan Tiago. The nauseating smell of opium reached all the way into the study room they were both residing in. Tadeo could choke on his own tongue until he passed out and it would still have the same effect. He had gone to Basilio hoping that maybe, just maybe, he would side with him and he would not have to feel so shitty about himself, but considering the company that he was with, it seemed highly unlikely.

"As for Macaraig…" Tadeo sighed again. "He's still gracious as ever, but I know he's faking it, right? I know he's just as disappointed in me as everyone else." 

Basilio hummed again. 

"That's what I hate about the Association sometimes, you know? They're just so petty and whining over nothing." Tadeo continued his rant. "Macaraig would continue treating them to food every other week out of the kindness of his heart, anyway, so they will get their free food regardless. What difference does the frequency of it make?" 

"They would save more money," was all Basilio said, his eyes still focused on his notes. 

Tadeo clicked his tongue at Basilio’s lack of expressiveness. "Well, I think they're just taking advantage of Macaraig," he replied as he rolled over on the sofa so that he was now facing the moldy ceiling. 

"But Macaraig was the one who set the parameters of that bet, didn't he?" Basilio remarked. "Following whatever logic you consider that to be, I think he was letting himself be taken advantage of." 

Ignoring his subtle insult, Tadeo gasped dramatically as he sat up and turned towards the desk.

"You were actually listening!" 

"Why wouldn't I be? You're the only reason why I'm not studying in silence." 

"Hey, some of them don't even need the money!" Tadeo continued. "_Juanito _ was in on it, my God—, and he'd still be living luxuriously, regardless! Sandoval is Spanish, so he will do just fine, too! Maybe Pecson and Isagani, I can believe they would need to save up on money--"

"And where would you fall in that spectrum?"

Tadeo found himself unable to argue further, especially when Basilio turned around in his chair to look right at him and he had not even batted an eye towards his direction since Tadeo arrived. He drooped his shoulders instead in defeat.

"I thought so, too," Basilio said. "It may not mean much to you, but it would mean everything to those who are struggling financially." He paused to turn his gaze away before turning his chair back to his desk and picking up his quill pen. "I think you should go and apologize to them." 

"Apologize now?" Tadeo whined. "Can't I just wait until the bad blood wears off?" 

"And how long will that take?" 

"Maybe… a week?" 

"Don't be a child," Basilio said. "Apologize now."

Tadeo groaned, annoyed at the predicament he had gotten into. 

"So annoying…" 

"Also it may not be as grave as your first story," Basilio added, "But you did make a vulgar remark about Paulita and Macaraig the other day. Isagani told me." 

He rolled his eyes. "Of course he would tell you.”

"Anyone would have told me. Eventually," Basilio said. "So, what are you going to do now?"

"As if I would know that."

"Then maybe you should go to Macaraig's house and think about it there, then."

Tadeo grumbled as he rolled around on the couch, annoyed that the conversation ended like this again. But before he could finally concede, he wanted to give Basilio one last witty remark.

"You're just saying this so I can leave, right?" He said with a sly grin, despite Basilio not being able to see his face.

Basilio did not say anything to his question, and Tadeo burst out laughing.

“Ay, my friend! You never fail to amuse me, huh!” His voice nearly cracked as he exclaimed in forceful joy. He walked up to the desk and ruffled Basilio’s hair excitedly, making the latter raise up his hand to slap Tadeo’s hand away.

“Tadeo, stop!” Basilio said, but Tadeo kept laughing. "And quiet down, you're going to wake him up."

Tadeo shrugged. "Eh, he's stayed asleep the whole time I’ve been talking. Seriously, you need to check more often if he's breathing. Could've sworn he was dead when I walked in." 

"I know how to do my job." Basilio's voice was cold.

"Of course you do, that's why we never see you anymore." 

Tadeo knew better than to stick around when he could see a dark cloud loom over Basilio’s eyes. Taking it as his signal to leave, he backtracked towards the archway and swung aside the translucent curtain that was separating the room from the rest of the world.

"Well, thanks for listening! Send Juli my warmest greetings, ha? Alright, take care!" 

Tadeo added a little skip to his step as he walked away from the house, but once he reached the crowded streets down the road, he slowed down his pace and his shoulders slumped a little, like he had just gotten away from the keen stare of somebody and he could revert back to his default feeling. The feeling where he had to face the fact that despite the fun conversation he had (if he could even call that “fun”), there was still a problem that had to be solved. There was still a rift that had to be closed. He had steered clear of any of the Association members the past few days since he broke the bet. Actually, he might have even avoided running into them altogether because he had not seen any of them since that day. Or maybe they avoided running into him. He convinced himself he had forgotten about their appearances already, and he had forgotten the landmarks he saw heading to Macaraig's house.

Tadeo could treat the Association like it was school, and just avoid showing up to the meetings altogether. It was even better because unlike school, this won't affect his future in any way. No one was forcing him to go. He did not have to take it seriously. If he could keep this up, he would forget them and they would forget him, and everything would be as it should be. It was like they never even existed in his life, and Tadeo can continue wandering around Manila aimlessly--wandering around aimlessly, letting his legs bring him to wherever it wanted to go without him in control, like he had always been doing.

And yet, Tadeo found himself standing at the foot of Macaraig's house. 

Entering the house once again through the grandiose doors, he did not expect everything to feel as familiar as it did, when he thought he had forgotten everything related to it: the feeling of the colorful tapestry against the soles of his feet, the pandemonic screaming of the student chasing each other, the toasty, stenchy air (well, there were plenty of men cramped up in the same floor, what can one expect?) The only thing that was probably off was the side-eyeing of some of the students from the corner of his eye before quickly looking away. No doubt members of the Association. There was no point running away anymore_—_there were too many witnesses_—_so he wordlessly ascended the staircase and paced towards Macaraig’s study, which was shut as always. He took one deep breath and knocked on the door rhythmically.

"Come in." 

He walked in, humbled, even embarrassed to even make it into this room, and he saw him seated in his usual desk with a blanket of parchment paper tucked under his elbows. He seemed to be drafting letters, his quill pen moving ever so smoothly on his desk. Macaraig did not look up at Tadeo since he walked in. Regardless, Tadeo stayed still, waiting for Macaraig to recognize his presence and whether he should ready himself to walk out the door or jump out the window. But when he finally saw Macaraig stop writing and look him in the eyes, he got none of those reactions. What he got, instead, was his smile and a fluttery feeling in his chest.

"It's great to see you again." 

Tadeo thought of it as a lie, but he played it off by nodding and waving lightly, still standing in this spot. This inevitably brought attention to himself, since Macaraig had to stop writing and look at him puzzled.

"What, you don't come here for a few days and suddenly it's like we never met?" Macaraig chuckled. "Come, sit down," and he gestured at the chairs in front of him. 

Tadeo, trying to not mess up again, quietly obeyed Macaraig and sat, but not without flipping the wooden chair around so that he would be straddling the chair. It was the most comfortable he could make himself feel at this time. He watched as Macaraig picked up his quill pen and continued writing, noting the smooth gestures of his fingertips on the parchment, and the calm expression gracing his face. 

"Uh, so…" Tadeo spoke, "What are those for?" He pointed at the letters. 

"It's my letter for Pepay. I will be meeting with her later so I need to get this done before then." 

"Oh…" 

Tadeo suddenly felt bad about the awful timing he had to barge into Macaraig's room like this, but he still wanted to stay. He had wasted his time enough lots of times anyway, and Macaraig looked completely unfazed, just writing his words away on the desk.

This was the first time Tadeo actually got to see a closer look of Macaraig's face without having to be in a group or in a distressed situation. Tadeo's eyes focused on the finer features of Macaraig's face, like his long eyelashes which battered from time to time, how the filtered sunlight from the windows casted a shadow over his face so he could see each eyelash have a shadow of its own, and how his eye was now shining a beautiful earthy brown. He had already lost track of how long he had been staring, but he did not know why he was so fixated at him. 

"So what do you want to discuss with me?" Macaraig asked, snapping Tadeo out of his trance.

"Ah, I'm just… Sorry I tried to lie to you about going to class. And for not going to class." 

"I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” he replied matter-of-factly. 

"I know," Tadeo said, "I… just wanted to let it out of my system." 

"They'll be back anytime soon." He dipped his quill pen into the small bottle of ink. "You can apologize to them then." 

"I know." 

Tadeo paused, letting Macaraig write a few more words.

"Actually… I would like to respectfully resign from the Association." 

Tadeo was not looking at Macaraig when he said this, but he heard the rhythmic scratching of the quill pen on parchment paper come to a complete stop. He looked up when he sensed that there was no motion at all that was coming from behind the desk. 

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," Macaraig said, dipping his pen into the bottle of ink.

"Why not?" Tadeo frowned and buried his chin deeper into his arms. "I'm just causing trouble for everyone, aren't I?" 

"The friars are the roots of our troubles, not you," Macaraig answered. "You are far from that level."

"Were you not with me since I joined this association?” Tadeo held himself back from raising his voice. “I'm just not as ambitious and passionate as everyone else is about the project.” 

"Regardless, there's a reason why you managed to make it all the way up here with us, isn't it?" 

"... And that is?" 

"Let me rephrase that." Macaraig set aside his writing materials and papers to lean forward and look at Tadeo with a sharp gaze and his arms neatly folded on the desk "There was a reason you tried so hard to win us over the day we met, despite all the lies and made-up names and the horribly shallow and flawed arguments you were giving us the entire time. Why was that?" 

Tadeo winced, not knowing what to feel first: utter and unadulterated horror, because Macaraig still remembered all the bullshit from the day he was accepted into the Association, or humiliation, because for some reason, Macaraig staring at him right in the eyes made him feel like crawling into a little crack and hide there forever. The stress almost compelled him to tell the truth just for him to stop looking at him like that and for this conversation to be over but he could not; there was no definite truth he could come up with. Not at this point in time.

"I… really don't know," he had to say before averting his gaze immediately, "Even if I did have a reason, I can't say it's part of some grand ambition I have like everyone else." 

"It doesn't have to be big. Small dreams are enough." Macaraig shrugged. "You could… Maybe have aspirations to become a teacher someday." 

"That's a small dream for you?"

He shrugged. "It's not that difficult, so I think. I think you would have a way of making any topic interesting." 

Tadeo's mouth was drying up. 

"But I don't have any dreams." 

"There had to have been something, even when you were still a child. All children have had dreams before.”

“Guess I was born an old fart, then,” he replied right away with a smirk. 

“Don’t be so sure about that. I think there is something there you do not realize.” Macaraig even leaned forward from his chair to reach out to Tadeo, as if he thinks that will make him believe him. “I don’t care how long it takes,” he added, “I’ll see to it that you will become even as starry-eyed as Isagani.”

Tadeo’s lip twitched to the side and he crossed his arms subconsciously from this gesture. There was something about what Macaraig said which annoyed him, but he did not feel as though it was because of Macaraig himself. He could not justify what was it that bothered him so much. He did not know if there was even something, to begin with, but still, he spoke mindlessly.

"You really have a way with making me want to stay, huh?" Tadeo said bitterly. 

"And that's my fault?" Macaraig chuckled. "I just want to make sure you don't see this as a waste of your time."

“It’s not.” 

“Looks like we are halfway through our journey, then.” 

_ ‘Not even _,’ Tadeo thought to himself. There was definitely something off, that he knew for sure. He just could not pinpoint it at this time. His leg swung back and forth as he started to repeat the flow of the conversation in his head to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"... Did you really think my arguments were flawed that time?"

Macaraig laughed lightly. "It's not your fault you didn't get it right. Linguistics is a very messy subject to tackle, even for me. But still, I think it was very bold of you to enter that territory, considering that you did not know what questions to expect from us. That must be why I decided to let you in the Association."

The conflicted look on Tadeo's face persisted, which Macaraig took as a sign to end the conversation. 

"That's all I have to say." He drew open a drawer from his desk. "You can go now. I believe Isagani and the rest will arrive shortly_—_"

"Could you teach me, then?" 

Macaraig stopped shuffling through the envelopes in his drawer and looked back at Tadeo, his request not completely registering in his head. 

"What?"

"Teach me." Tadeo repeated more confidently. "What are the correct answers to those questions that time?" 

Macaraig blinked in confusion. "Tadeo, those are rhetorical questions," he said. "They aren't meant to have one correct answer, because we recognize that students with different backgrounds will have varying answers to those questions. It's just a matter of knowing whose ideals best serve our goals in the Association." 

"But I'm not like any of you, aren't I?" Tadeo said with inquisitive eyes. He was even surprised at the level of boldness he just showed then. "Can you at least show me one perspective?" 

Macaraig sighed, but it did not sound like he was inconvenienced. 

"Alright, since you asked so nicely…" He picked out an envelope from his drawer and stood up from his chair, turning around to get a bottle of cologne that was on the bookshelf. Once he had all the items gathered on the desk, he began talking.

"So one of the arguments you gave then was that language is just a way to communicate with each other, right? This may be true to an extent, but languages carry more than just messages, Tadeo. They carry culture, values, history. If languages really were just ways for us to communicate with each other, then how is it possible for languages to have terms for concepts that cannot be easily translated into another language? How is it possible for me to know what this exact word means in my language, but never be able to explain it directly to someone who has never heard of it? Do you understand? " 

Tadeo nodded dumbly at Macaraig, amazed at his ability to juggle that much information in his head and verbalize it without faltering even once throughout his rambling. He was mesmerized even more because Macaraig was fixing up the letter with skillful grace as he spoke. He was perfectly creasing the letter, tracing the border of the letter with his finger soaked in floral perfume, and penned the envelope with his name with one graceful stroke of his hand. He made letter-writing look like a work of art, and he was doing it so effortlessly.

"You may be right in saying no language is superior to another, but we live in a country governed by inequality. The language one speaks says a lot about their upbringing. It is impossible for an ordinary Filipino who has never gone through formal schooling to perfectly understand and speak Spanish, because that is not the language accessible to their status in society. In this country, Spanish is the language of the elite, and as such, it is the goal of our school to close that gap that was forcefully created by the friars. They will be much closer to the upper echelons of society. They will be a step closer to wielding the same power that the Spanish do, and that will give them hope—" 

"—To rise against them?" Tadeo asked, remembering what Isagani told him when he sermoned him last time. He wanted to make sure Macaraig knew he was paying attention.

"What made you think that?" 

Tadeo shrugged. "I'm just guessing." 

"Well..." Macaraig's fingers fumbled on the envelope. "That might also be… But you don't have to follow what other people think. We all have our own battles to fight. That just so happened to be Isagani's." 

"Ooh…" Tadeo looked up at Macaraig. "...But then…" 

"But then?" 

"Never mind, this question is stupid." 

"No, please ask." 

"Um..." Tadeo was hoping he understood it all right. "You said language carries culture, but then…? Why do we want Spanish if it carries Spanish culture?" 

"We cannot possibly hope to see the unification of all Filipinos if we stick to the languages we know. They further divide us, and it would be unfair to impose one local language above all else. If we decide, 'Alright, let us use Tagalog from now on," it will be unfair to Bicolanos, to Ilocanos, to Cebuanos because that is not their language. It is just going to cause conflict, so why not use another language instead?” Macaraig pinched the envelope and slid across the edge to seal it completely. “I think we will come close to learning the ways of Europe, of progress and development, if we learn an European language. We will have access to that world.” 

"Woah..." Macaraig really had the answer to everything, it was amazing. 

"What else do I have to say… Other comments I have are simple errors, like there is no Father Geronimo that exists anywhere near the university. And you have never enlisted in any Chemistry class." 

Tadeo blinked. "Hold on, you know my curriculum?" 

“I have my resources,” was Macaraig’s reply, but nothing could hide the fact that Tadeo saw him flinch slightly from his question at first.

"How do you always have a sharp memory for everything?"

"I live a very uneventful life," Macaraig said plainly. "So I remember every little thing that has ever been said to me, even if it has happened months before." 

"Yes," Tadeo replied. "Because being the head of the Association and a scholar adored by everyone in Manila is super uneventful and boring." 

"Shut up, you know what I mean," Macaraig answered back, slapping Tadeo lightly with the envelope. They both laughed from this playful gesture. "What I mean is it gets very boring and repetitive in Manila when you've lived in it for so long." 

"Doesn't it?" Tadeo exclaimed, ecstatic at the thought that someone finally understood him. "I've only been in Manila for a few years and I'm already sick of it." 

"Yes, yes!" Macaraig leaned forward with a smile. "All work and no play?" 

"Yes, and grumpy, old hags everywhere!" 

"Don't forget the snobby, pretentious mestizo posers."

"And everywhere smells like smoke, piss and horse shit!" 

The two students laughed heartily, the initial tension between them no longer present in the room. 

"I'm honestly amazed Sandoval can look at this place and think, 'Wow, Manila is so amazing!' It's horrible!" Macaraig brushed off the joyful tears in his eyes. 

"Maybe it's because Spain really is doing more horribly than we are," Tadeo chuckled.

"Oh, I wonder if that is the case," Macaraig said wistfully. "But now that we are talking about it, maybe I do need a change of scenery." He tapped the edge of the envelope against his chin. "I could travel outside Manila once my studies are done…" 

"Yes!" 

"Ride a fancy cruise…" 

"Sounds great!" 

"Maybe I can even travel to Europe."

"Ay, that's too far," Tadeo moaned.

"I can finally see all those sights I've been reading about in books," Macaraig continued fantasizing, and he began moving away from his letterwork, his starry-eyed gaze now looking upwards. "I can see the Eiffel Tower in front of me, the Palace of Versailles, the Arc de Triomphe— Oh, everytime I would walk past the archway in front of the University, I picture myself, clad in Parisian fashion, walking underneath the Arc de Triomphe in all its grandeur and glory, and then, when I look around, I see street performers, and street painters, and the little bake shops in the corner—!"

Macaraig stopped in his path when he realized he was already face-to-face with the window, and his foot was an inch away from kicking itself against the wall. Now it was his turn to snap back to his senses and turned around on his heel.

“Sorry, I got too carried away there…” He muttered sheepishly and looked to the side.

Tadeo wished his study was a little bit wider so Macaraig could keep fantasizing. It was so refreshing to see Macaraig like this with bright eyes, with a dream that no one else in the Association could claim but him. He started to wonder if he had ever shared this with anyone else. 

“What are you staring at me for?”

Tadeo had no idea he had been putting on the goofiest smile the whole time, and his chin was resting on his folded arms, still resting on top of the back of his chair. Still trapped in a trance, he made the worst decision to open his mouth.

"I just think it's so beautiful when—" and he finally cut himself off once he realized what he was going to say "—when people have dreams…" 

“Dreams, you say…” Macaraig repeated to himself, and he looked down in contemplation, his pupils now barely visible through his eyelashes. “I can understand a little bit of German, so I think I will survive if I’m in Germany... I don't know how to speak French, though—" 

"I can speak French." 

Tadeo regretted blurting out those words as soon as he said the first word, especially considering how quickly Macaraig turned to him, his eyes all on him. It was not even true; he just enrolled in a French class one time and never showed up since the first day. But it was too late to back out now. It was a perfect chance for him to impress Macaraig somehow, while he was in high spirits—maybe he's more naive when he's happy. 

“You know how to speak French?” Macaraig asked.

Tadeo blew a raspberry in the air. “Of course I can. I was a top-notcher in my French class, even!”

Macaraig’s eyebrow quirked in amusement, and Tadeo knew at that moment he had gotten beaten by his own game. “Oh yeah? Tell me something in French right now.”

Tadeo laughed pompously, and his eyes darted to one of the books in the towering bookcases in front of him and narrowed his eyes. “Uh… Leh… _Les Misérables’_.”

Macaraig stared blankly at him before squinting. “You just read from my shelf, didn’t you?”

“Hey, I said something in French, didn’t I?” Tadeo grinned smugly. “That’s what you wanted.”

“No, tell me something that is authentically you in French!”

“Hm… _ sest la vie _!”

“That’s too common. Also, it’s _c’est la vie _.” 

“I thought you don’t know how to speak French.” 

"Anyone knows _c'est la vie _, Tadeo, it's as common as _carpe diem’_!" 

"Fine, then _je t'aime—_!" 

Tadeo could genuinely feel the words get caught in his throat, hanging off the back of his tongue. He should not really feel all that scared about saying that phrase, right? Surely it's a common saying and it is not weird to say right? But good God, Macaraig's expression was nearly unreadable. He was definitely alerted by it, but was it because of how loud Tadeo's voice was or because of what he said? Tadeo was just about ready to dive headfirst out of the window and fall to the ground. He's just pathetic, so pathetic.

"That's 'I love you', right?" Macaraig tilted his head. 

Tadeo caught himself glancing at the window. "Yes…" 

"Hmm… _ Je t'aime _," Macaraig repeated to himself with an evidently adorable accent, making Tadeo's chest ache. "It rolls off the tongue really nicely."

"Maybe you should start learning the language so we can talk to each other in French," Tadeo said with a grin. 

"Or…" Macaraig smiled. "I think you should continue your French lessons. French suits you, after all." 

Tadeo couldn't stop a smile and a nervous laugh from breaking out. "Thanks." His voice nearly cracked. God, he needed to get out of here before he’d say anything worse. But he watched as Macaraig headed back to his shelf and let his fingers dance across the books until his pointer finger landed on a large and thick leather-bound book. He pulled the book off the shelf and presented it to him.

"And because of that… I want you to have this."

Tadeo blinked and his jaw almost dropped to the floor. It was _Les Misérables_. He did not know much about the book, apart from it written by some guy named Victor Hugo and that the Spanish in the Philippines basically hate him, which was a good enough reason for the fearful majority to avoid it. And yet, Macaraig owned a copy of his book. And it was a sin to own that book, but it was about to be handed down to him. and it was so, so _exciting__. _

“You… You can’t be serious,” was what Tadeo said, but his hands were tingling as he reached out for it.

"Of course I am. Take it," he repeated, his arm extending further. 

“Ah, my-my French hasn't reached that level yet!"

"But it will be, someday. You will understand what this all means one day, right" Macaraig pressed the cover of the book lightly against Tadeo's chest, making the latter raise his hands up to take the book. "Guess you have no choice but to continue learning the language, no?" 

_ That 'someday' doesn't have to be soon, _ Tadeo said to himself in his head. _ Besides, it's not like he'll check _.

"I guess I don't," he finally said a smile. 

"Great!" Macaraig clapped his hands and smiled brightly. "And once you finish, I want you to read it all to me." 

"No way!" Tadeo shoved the book back to Macaraig's chest. "I mean, you're the smart one, here. You'll learn the language faster than I will." 

"But you—" Macaraig grabbed the book, his fingers brushing over Tadeo's when he pushed it back to his chest. "—You will make learning the language more fun for me." 

Tadeo was not in the right mind to hyper-analyze what Macaraig meant by that, or to focus on the lingering touch on his fingertips, so he kept rejecting his offer.

“Can’t you read the translation?”

“A lot gets lost in translation,” Macaraig responded. Whatever that meant. "This is not urgent, so take as long as you like. I'm the one asking for a favor, after all."

"Fine, but you're the one who said that, ha?" 

"Of course, but more importantly," Macaraig added, "Make sure you keep that away from people's eyes, alright?" 

Tadeo knew possessing that book was as scandalous as possessing guerilla artillery, but he can't help the jolt of energy that shot through his arms up until his fingertips. 

“No promises," he said cheekily.

“I’m serious, Tadeo! You can’t just bring that around like an abaniko--”

Their conversation was interrupted by muffled talking that was taking place right outside the study, and the two looked towards the door.

"Is that them?" 

"It sure is. Now you can apologize properly." 

Tadeo could hear Isagani's voice, albeit in a lower tone, and he started to walk away from the desk.

"Hey Tadeo, you promise, alright?"

_Was he referring to the French lessons or bringing _Les Misérables _around? _Tadeo was not sure anymore.

"Yes, yes," he waved at Macaraig with his hand that held the book. Greeting Macaraig goodbye, he made his way to the door and swung it open, revealing Isagani and Juanito behind, mid-conversation.

"Oh, Tadeo—" Isagani managed to say before he was cut off by Tadeo wrapping his arms around both of them in an embrace and squeezed their shoulders together.

"Please, please forgive me for not going to class!" Tadeo cried out as he buried his face in between their shoulders. "I was so, so, so selfish!"

"Tadeo! I never thought I’d see you again!" Juanito immediately returned the warm gesture and hugged Tadeo back with childish sobs. 

“It’s not like he was gone for months,” Isagani said blankly. "But you're forgiven. I guess."

Tadeo looked back and forth at the both of them and grinned. “You know what? To really make up for all this, dinner’s on me later, alright?” 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” 

"For the rest of the year too,” Isagani replied flatly. “It's the least you could do.”

“Ah, for once, we see each other eye-to-eye, Isagani.” 

"Oy, don't play dirty like that! You're the last person who’s supposed to be like that!”

But the two men were still smiling and chuckling to themselves at the whole exchange as they walked away, and Tadeo felt as though everything was starting to light up for him. Before he went and followed the duo down the stairs, he looked back at the door and saw Macaraig, smiling at him from the doorway with a thumbs up gesture, and Tadeo had never grinned so beamingly in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these guys r killing me


	10. Les misérables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame"_  
—Oscar Wilde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: this is a 8000+-ish word chapter. i wanted to split it into two chapters cuz no one deserves to read this many words in a sitting (especially by me) but i realized the lengths would be horribly uneven where i found it ideal to split it, and i didnt know how else to break it so i still kept it as one chapter. whatever, sue me, i have unnaturally long chapters in my fic. i am a writer's worst nightmare.

Tadeo had been carrying around Les Misérables ever since Macaraig gave it to him. He had not started reading it yet, not even the very first page. He still remembered Macaraig's words about keeping the book away from anyone's sight at all costs, and making sure not to bring it around in public, but he could not help himself. For once, holding a book did not give him such a heavy feeling in his chest like he was weighed down by responsibilities. Les Misérables uplifted him, it did not pressure him. 

Not only that, Tadeo felt like his life got brighter ever since he got Les Misérables, as ironic as it seemed. He had been getting along better with the members of the Association, they were not arguing with him as often as he did before, and most importantly, none of them were bugging him about going to class anymore. When he would opt out of class, they would all let him. When he refused to join in the middle of a study session, they accepted him. Les Misérables was his lucky charm, and he thought to himself for as long as he did not get himself caught, he would be fine. He can just keep the book somewhere on his body and avoid hugging anyone, and it would be fine.

Of course, what would more rationally explain this sudden turn of luck was because Tadeo, unfortunately, made himself suffer the consequences of not putting up his end of the bet. He followed Isagani’s condition from the other day, as it was the easiest way to get the rest of the members on good terms with him again. Most of the boys were compassionate enough to know that Tadeo was no Macaraig, and so rarely took up Tadeo’s offer for paying for their meals. Some, however, were brutal and definitely took advantage of this opportunity. Tadeo tried his best not to mind it, because at least it meant he had company every meal time; forget the gaping hole that was starting to form in his pocket. That was partly why when Juanito barged into the sala to rave about the Quiapo Fair that had just finished setting up, Tadeo was less than enthusiastic about going. 

"What is there to see?" Pecson asked. "It's just the same thing every year."

"Well, I heard that this year, there's going to be a grand exhibit by a magician who came over from South America. Something about a Sphinx." 

"Magician?" 

"Sounds boring," Tadeo said plainly. "I'm not going."

Tadeo anticipated that Juanito would start begging for him to go, so right before Juanito could lunge at his ankle and drag him off the couch, he bent his knees and held them against his chest so Juanito couldn't reach it.

"Oy! Only Pecson is allowed to be a killjoy around here!"

"Well, I would love to go!" Sandoval jumped up from his seat and walked up to Juanito to put his arms around him. "Can't say no to a generous offer made by a friend!" 

"Who's going to bring us there?" Pecson asked. 

"Macaraig, of course!" 

Tadeo suddenly sat up from his position, making his head feel dizzy for a while. "Wait, he's going?"

Juanito looked at Tadeo and cocked his eyebrow. "Oh, so you're only going if Macaraig does, hm?"

"That's none of your business!" 

“Hold on, you cannot just volunteer Macaraig to bring us there.” Pecson gave Juanito a stinky side-eye. “What if he’s not available?”

“Of course he is. I saw his kalesa downstairs before I walked in here.” 

“You really are so shameless,” he sighed. “Anyway, Pelaez is already out of the question, for sure. Macaraig has never accepted a favor from him in his life."

"Tadeo should be the one to ask for permission, since he's so friendly with Macaraig, anyway," Juanito sang.

"Shut—!" He stopped himself before he could retort, as he started to hear footsteps coming from upstairs. Everyone present in the discussion looked at the source of the noise and saw Macaraig walking down the stairs. He greeted some of the students from the other side of the room, but once he turned to the side where Tadeo and the others were, he stared at them baffled.

"...Why is everyone looking at me?" 

Juanito cleared his throat repeatedly in what sounded like the choked utterance of Tadeo's name, and Tadeo groaned loudly enough for Juanito to hear.

"We were just wondering...If we could go out--I mean, us, everyone here--to the... Quiapo Fair?"

Macaraig was looking at him very curiously, but then laughed once Tadeo had finished speaking. "That was it? What's with the dramatic pauses? Of course we can go!"

"The kalesa," Juanito coughed and cleared his throat, making Tadeo glare at him in annoyance.

"Fine! ... We need a ride."

"Who's coming?"

Tadeo gestured to the ones present in the room, and Macaraig appeared amiable up until he spotted Juanito, and he only so slightly slumped his shoulders at the sight. 

"... Alright. Let's go."

Juanito, the least welcomed student, cheered the loudest at Macaraig's acceptance of defeat. Sandoval's eyes gleamed and began making wild speculations about what the fair would be like, citing examples that were far too foreign for anyone else in the room to completely appreciate. 

"How about you, Isagani? Don't you want to come with us?" 

Isagani's lips curved upward. "I'll pass for tonight, sorry. I want to experience the fair first-hand with Paulita."

The group stared blankly at Isagani before Pecson burst out laughing in his typical guffawed fashion.

"Whatever you say, lover boy!" he cried out, and the group cheerily made their way out the door and headed down the stairs.

They recognized Macaraig's kalesa waiting for them at the front; it was only his kalesa that was being drawn by a white horse, as compared to the other kalesas on the street that had mostly brown horses. The cochero, sitting upright in his chair, was dressed very nicely, and his hat did not show any sign of wear and tear. Macaraig stopped walking before he got in, making everyone stop their walking as well.

"This kalesa can only fit four people, but…" 

The rest of the group stared at each other, especially Macaraig who was side-eyeing at Juanito, like he was saying someone should be left behind, or someone should get their own ride.

"I'm not sitting in the middle!" Juanito exclaimed. He was the first to claim his seat, hopping at the front seat that was by the window and behind the cochero. 

"That's my spot, Pelaez!" Macaraig said before hopping on the kalesa as well, sitting next to Juanito. There was barely enough space for one more person where they were, and yet Tadeo decided to follow Macaraig and sit right next to him.

Once Pecson and Sandoval had boarded, Macaraig gave instructions to his cochero to head to Quiapo Square. Once a few seconds had passed since they started moving, Macaraig turned to face Sandoval and Pecson.

"Are you two alright back there?"

Juanito and Tadeo looked back to see the two rivals in the back, both their shoulders pressing against the walls opposite of each other so there was a slight gap between where they were seated. Their bodies were facing away from each other, and their arms were crossed, which clearly indicated otherwise. 

"Never felt better," Pecson said through his puckered lips.

"Oh good," Macaraig said, "Then Pelaez, maybe you can move there in the back--" 

"No, no, no!" They both waved their hands in front of their bodies. “We don’t have any space here!” Sandoval cried out.

"Is that so..." Macaraig said it like he had given up insisting, but at the same time there was a sound of disappointing peppered in it. Nevertheless, he gave orders to his cochero to head to Quiapo Square. With one smooth and snappy wave of his forearm, the cochero signaled the horse to start walking. 

* * *

The trip was quiet only for a short while, which was unusual given how they would often be talking from the moment they got on the kalesa until they reach their destination. It took crossing two intersections for the silence to break, and for everyone inside to simultaneously realize what was wrong with the atmosphere.

"Pelaez, can you move?" The harshness in Macaraig's voice started to break and his shoulders shoved Juanito's in his seat. 

"I'm already cramped here!" 

"No way, there's still space over there!"

"But my legs need air to breathe--!" 

Tadeo did not mind that actually, he was the one that was the most cramped, with half his body already hanging off the seat. He did not mind that he was a motion away from getting his feet stuck on the wheel of the carriage, or that if he budged, he would tumble and get run over by oncoming traffic. No, it was because his mind and soul was fixated on the feeling of Macaraig brushing up against him—fabric to fabric, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh—and the fact that sometimes, as Macaraig squirmed in his seat to get comfortable, he would get close enough that Tadeo could see the baby hairs on the back of his neck, the fabric on Macaraig's shirt stretching itself thin across his shoulders. Combined with the smell of a mix of warm and fragrant air emanating from his nape, Tadeo was sure he was already breathing onto his neck; he so close to just biting through his tongue. He was about to turn the other side to ignore, until a palm pressed down his thigh, resulting in a pained yelp from him. 

"Aah–!" 

"Oh, sorry!" Macaraig turned to Tadeo and scooted away from Tadeo as much as the little space he had allowed him to. “Look at what you’ve done. You could’ve just gotten to the fair on your own kalesa!”

“It’s not my fault my driver left right away to pick up my father--!”

“Shut up!” Pecson shouted. “Hesus Maria, you are fighting even more than we are!”

The quarreling pair were immediately silenced from their friend’s comment and they shifted their torsos so they would not face each other.

“My apologies,” Macaraig replied through his teeth, his throat letting out a growl as he did so, and he glared at his rowdy seatmate before looking away. “That was unbecoming of me.” While he was looking away, Juanito stuck out his tongue in spite, which Macaraig had noticed from the corner of his eye. “Keep making those faces and I'll push you off the edge."

“But fighting even more than Pecson and Sandoval…” Tadeo looked at his foot and snickered. “Is that even possible?”

“Tomorrow they're gonna start fighting about who's richer," Pecson deadpanned.

"My family owns more than you, for sure," Juanito remarked, and the unnerving graveness in his voice made everyone doubt that he was not playing around anymore. 

"I'm not going to play your games, Pelaez."

"Well, we can't really say that just yet," Sandoval thought out loud. "I don't actually know what Macaraig's parents do..."

Tadeo, getting stressed over the way this conversation was becoming, started to butt in with his stupid musings.

"Who knows, perhaps they're so rich that they need to keep a low profile?" He glanced at Macaraig and saw yet another unreadable expression. He was just looking straight ahead on the road stretching in front of them.

"My father is a sugar baron," he calmly said.

"So that's how it is!"

"Seems like every rich man in the country is one," Pecson remarked. 

Their exchange was followed by silence, with the clip-clopping of the horses’ shoes being the loudest audible sound they could hear. Zoning out allowed them to hear the shouting of the panaderos and the lecheras from the other corner of the street. It stayed this way until the kalesa came to a halt.

"Señor, I just need to do something for a little bit," the cochero said dryly. Macaraig smiled and waved, signalling the cochero to swiftly disembark from his seat.

“What’s he doing?” 

Macaraig's eyes followed his cochero as he crossed the street to enter a small hole-in-the-wall. 

“Lottery…”

Now that the kalesa stopped moving, everyone inside became more aware of their bleak surroundings. The cool breeze that graced their faces as they were chatting merrily was replaced with a mix of smoke and an unidentifiable stench nearby. Juanito was most affected by it, shutting his lips tightly with no sound of air entering and leaving his nostrils.

"This was exactly what we were talking about the other day," Macaraig said to him. 

"It is, it is," Tadeo replied with a grin.

"Ah... Isagani is really obsessed with Paulita lately, huh?" Juanito said mindlessly, still shaken from the putrid smell coming from a nearby estero. "Is he planning to propose to her already?"

"He hasn't even finished his studies!" Sandoval remarked. "I think he should graduate first, and then he can marry Paulita. Basilio is doing just that."

Tadeo just laughed off the comically serious speculations of his schoolmates. "This is Isagani we're talking about, the lover of all lovers! I wouldn't blame him if he wanted to marry right away. I know I would do just about anything for a woman like that, wouldn't you?" 

He meant it as a joke, but everyone seemed to shrug or be unresponsive with it. Even Macaraig continued to be unfazed from everyone's discussions.

"Maybe if I was threatened to, I would," Juanito laughed nervously. 

The driver rushed back to his seat and apologized for the inconvenience. Macaraig nodded and repeated again their final destination to the cochero, and the kalesa began moving again.

"What's wrong with Paulita?" Tadeo continued the discussion.

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with her," he replied, "It's just her aunt…" 

“Every full moon, the smooth, porcelain-like features of her face peels off and you see underneath all the grotesque blemishes she has been trying to hide.” Pecson leaned. 

"It's not that! Gross!" Juanito laughed as he tried to playfully smack Pecson in the face. 

“All across Manila, you can see traces of her face, like lumpia wrappers, scattered everywhere,” he continued, “and all the parishioners, governors, and sneaky Chinese vendors pick it up to bring back to their homes or to festivals. I’d say the banners they will use for the Quiapo fair are made up of those exact same casts.”

“Very morbid imagination you have there,” Macaraig chuckled.

“It’s true!” 

They laughed heartily over the distant music that they had been hearing from the outside, but they quieted down when the upbeat music got louder, and the lights outside glowed brighter and more colorfully. 

"Wait, are we here already?" Sandoval asked with a giddy voice.

"Calm down, we just went down a few streets." 

"We're here, we're here!"

The kalesa stopped moving, which made Juanito immediately abandon the carriage. Tadeo was taking a while in getting down, but right as he looked out, he saw a woman hop off from the kalesa right next to Macaraig's, clumsily enough for him to see a little up until her knees, and he got off the kalesa staring at her. Her saya hugged her hips so perfectly, and every bodacious sway of her hips made Tadeo turn his neck even more to watch her, even if she was walking away from the plaza and crossing the street. It was wrong, so wrong; he was supposed to be happy that he was with Macaraig, but it would not hurt to admire a pretty woman when he sees one, right? He assured himself that as he mindlessly tailed the woman.

"Tadeo, watch out!" 

"What-?" 

Tadeo felt a hand grab him by the back of his collar, almost choking him and falling on his back. He got back his balance and was ready to swear at the person until he saw a distressed horse run right in front of him, leaving a strong gust of dust and pebbles in its wake, while the driver and the carriage swung violently side by side. He turned around and saw Macaraig right behind him, his lips pale. The rest of the group had already gone ahead, giddily hopping towards the cosmoramas and the stalls. 

"Watch where you're going, will you?" Macaraig reprimanded him. 

"Yeah, yeah," Tadeo said distractedly, still looking around to find the woman. 

"Alright then, let's go." 

* * *

Macaraig and Tadeo started walking together to look for their friends. Tadeo was very much delighted from the sight of the plaza, all adorned and colorfully decorated, that he had to speak to remember he was still on Earth.

“Not many people today…” Kind of a lie. The crowd was just starting to come in.

“The fair did just finish setting up, so they will be coming later," Macaraig said. "The important guys are going tomorrow. Father Salvi, Simoun... Maybe everyone else will be attending with them. Just taking advantage of the presence of any high-profile individual they run into..." 

Tadeo nodded to Macaraig's words without much thought, as he was starting to get lost in his surroundings, being dazzled by the warm lights emitting from the hanging lanterns, the musical performers playing music that echoes through the entire plaza, and most especially, the women. Tadeo felt like he was supposed to be ashamed since he was with Macaraig this time, but there was something about the atmosphere that made him feel fragile towards everything happen. Was it because of the overwhelming number of women strolling around the plaza? Their melodious giggling? Their dainty figures hiding behind their endless layers of cloth? Tadeo was not sure what it was, but he definitely had no complaints about it, even if Macaraig had already taken notice of his distracted face.

"You really can't control your eyes, can you?" 

"My what?" Tadeo blabbered as he continued to eye a woman with a rather shapely figure that happened to walk past them.

Macaraig sighed. "You just don't have dignity at all."

Tadeo felt that this was the part where he was supposed to feel embarrassed, but because Macaraig was oddly grave that time and his walking pace was quickening, he could not help but pry further into this fact. '_Macaraig hates it when I look at other women, huh? ' _he thought to himself. He looked at Macaraig's collected demeanor and, in an attempt to get his attention, looked for the nearest pretty girl he could find, checking them out in every angle by swaying his body and craning his neck around in a comical fashion like he was a puppet being pulled around on strings. 

"See, now you're just faking it." 

"Whaaaat? No, I'm not!" Tadeo laughed. "Come on, don't you find any of these women pretty, too?" 

"I think European women are more attractive," he replied. 

_What about men? _Tadeo found himself asking in his head.

"Oh, is that so?" 

"Don't get me mistaken. There are... some exceptions." 

Tadeo puckered his lips. "Like Paulita?" 

Macaraig paused slightly before answering. "Sure." 

"How about Pepay?" 

"She's—well..."

"Juli?"

"Tadeo, I never even met her." Macaraig sounded exasperated. "Here, how about I throw the question back at you—Who do _you_ find attractive?" 

Tadeo tried his best to not grind his heel on the ground to abruptly stop in his path. _Did Macaraig have to word it like that?!_ He could not have come up with a question that was akin to, "What do you like in women?" but instead it was something as open-ended as... 

"Me?" Tadeo stammered. "You know, um, a pretty face—" 

"Too relative," Macaraig chimed. 

"Wide hips... A petite waist..." 

"I think you just want a doll."

"Anyone who catches my fancy, really!" Tadeo cried out a little louder than usual, getting embarrassed talking about this with Macaraig, of all people. "It could be anyone!" 

Tadeo did not know if he was able to convince Macaraig enough from that answer, but after staring at him with a tilted head, he replied back, "I understand," and continued walking. Tadeo believed he had dodged a bullet then. "Look, there they are."

Tadeo and Macaraig had arrived at the bazaar section of the Quiapo fair. Countless stalls glowed as colorfully as their eyes could handle, with plenty of visitors hopping from stall to stall. Right ahead of them, they saw Juanito, Sandoval, and Pecson huddling around one stand, attended to by an apathetic seller who was simply fanning herself with her pamaypay. The rowdiness of the trio could not be missed even from meters away. 

"Hey everyone!" Tadeo greeted as he got closer, but the group seemed to have missed his greeting. He put down Les Misérables face down on the exposed surface of the stall.

"And this is Pecson if he ever wore friar's garb!" Juanito continued laughing as he held a small figurine of a fat Augustinian friar sitting at the head of an empty dining table, licking his fingers. Pecson, as expected, gave him a dirty look. The woman behind the stall, to no surprise, was glaring at the group the whole time. 

"Haha, very original, Pelaez. He doesn't resemble even a half of me. His hair is gray and he's balding." Pecson pointed at the scalp of the figurine. 

"Well, you do look like you have a bald spot right here--" Sandoval pressed his finger down Pecson's scalp where his hair partitioned, but he was shut up right away by an elbow to his gut, making Juanito cackle. The dark cloud over Pecson's face disappeared as he joined in his laughter from the sight of a pained Sandoval. Tadeo stepped away immediately when he saw Pecson start to move around as he laughed. As he suspected, Pecson's hip bumped the edge of the stall, making all the friar figurines rumble. The woman manning the stall gasped in horror and wrapped her arms around the figurines and glowered at the students. 

"You shameless brats!" Her shrill voice stood out from the merry music in the background. "Go away if you're not buying!" 

Pecson wasted no second in showing forgiveness, and he also backed away from the stall to prevent hitting anymore of the figurines.

"I'm so sorry, Señora, I'm sorry," he pleaded with his brows knitted in worry. Juanito snickered from the sight of a submissive Pecson, but the latter shot him a glare before walking away. Everyone else followed, recognizing the end of their window shopping.

Tadeo would have followed suit, but after realizing Macaraig was not beside him him, he looked back at the stall and saw him talking with the woman. Unlike earlier, she now had an amiable look on her face, and was fanning herself at a faster pace than normal. After seeing the rest of the group settle down on a table by a food stall, he walked back to Macaraig, and listened to their conversation.

"These are beautiful," Macaraig said with a soft voice, holding up another figurine. "How much is this?" 

The woman gestured at the different items and bundles, and spout out various prices, including discounts which she most likely came up with last minute. To Tadeo's poor wallet, everything sounded expensive, even unnecessarily so just for a bunch of wooden carvings. 

"If that's the case… I'll buy the whole set." 

The seller could not believe her hearing either. “The--The whole set?” 

He simply nodded, smiling and bringing the carving up to his eye. "These would make a great addition to my sala. Won't you let me buy everything?"

She was still agape from his words as rich as honey, and she sat up from her rickety stool with a toothy smile. "Of course, señor, of course!" She wasted no time in pulling out the rice paper and hand-weaved basket that had been hidden under the stall and wrapping each figurine with the paper. Macaraig handed over cash from his pocket without counting, and even told her to keep the change. This, naturally, pleased the seller a great deal, and her smile became as beaming as the fiesta lights.

Macaraig walked away from the stall holding the basket of figurines in one hand, with Tadeo tailing him.

"I will just bring these back to my kalesa."

"Let me come with you!"

"You don't have to come with me," he replied. "Just find the rest of the group for me. I won't be gone for long."

Tadeo observed Macaraig's hands to make sure they were not trembling from the weight before nodding and parting ways.

* * *

It did not take long for him to spot the group, since the crowd was starting to clear up. He saw the three students sitting by long, battered wooden table. At the end, there were multiple large, black clay pots being attended to by a cook. 

"Oy, Tadeo, where were you?" Juanito waved at him to come closer.

"Um, I was with Macaraig, he went and bought something from the stall--" and right as he mentioned him, Macaraig ran up to the group and quickly apologized for being lately.

"Great! Everyone's complete. You two can sit over there." Sandoval gestured to the vacant spot across them, enough to squeeze in two people. Neither of them complained as they sat down. Macaraig bumped knees with Tadeo in the process, but Tadeo was slightly more prepared this time to not lose his mind from their thighs touching again.

The group was seated near a concessionaire stand, the sweet smell of caramel blending with the smell of smoked meat coming from the pots they will soon be feasting in. Tadeo turned to follow the scent but when he saw the source, he felt his throat tighten.

The one manning the stand was a middle-aged woman, but his throat did not hitch because she was pretty. No, the reason was the complete opposite of pretty. He suddenly remembered the way her scolding (in his native tongue, no less!) would echo in his ears every time he'd approach her stall. How he would humbly ask for "spare change" from her—scrap that, huge sums of money; money that a regular-looking student like him should not be holding in his hand at any given time, but because of certain obligations, he needed to do so. And he was foolish to tell her that he would be able to pay by this week. He did not know what he scared about or whether he should even be scared but he was so, so tempted to run far away.

The concessionaire definitely looked more peaceful now than she had been when talking to him, which was why he did not want to create a scene when Macaraig was present. His mouth started to go dry and his head felt like it was being pricked by pins and needles.

“Can we eat somewhere else?” Tadeo mumbled while his trembling hands were cupped on the temples of his forehead, trying to obscure his face from the view of the concessionaire.

“No, the majority won,” Pecson answered back. “We already went around the fair twice, and this is the one that we all liked the best.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” Macaraig leaned forward to peer into Tadeo’s face, but his proximity to him made Tadeo quickly turn away, and he felt his cheeks get warmer. 

“I-I might have, uh, seen someone I knew...”

“Why hide?” Sandoval turned around to look for the mysterious person. “Let’s invite them over-!”

“You dumb ass, he would have yelled at that person if he wanted to greet them so bad!”

“Maybe you can switch places with Pecson?” Macaraig suggested. 

Tadeo quickly shot it down, not wanting to reject fate for letting him sit next to Macaraig this time.

“Sandoval--" his throat was hoarse "--can you switch places with Juanito?” 

A terrible suggestion, in retrospect. Currently, Juanito was seated in between Sandoval and Pecson for obvious reasons, and Tadeo was seated right across Juanito. Sandoval complying would mean he would be bumping knees with Pecson the entire time which, as evident from the trip earlier, would be an unsavory experience for both parties. The looks on their faces after he said the suggestion said it all.

"Don't you wanna sit with me?" Juanito pouted.

"I need someone taller to sit in front of me."

Pecson snickered loudly. "He just called you short, chico."

"But you're shorter than me?!"

Tadeo caught the concessionaire glancing at his direction when Juanito shouted, and he quickly looked away and shielded the side of his face with his palms. 

"Please, Sandoval, just for tonight!"

"Alright, alright, I'm moving!" Sandoval raised his hands up before tapping his fingers rapidly on Juanito's shoulders, signalling him to move away from the table and let Sandoval scoot next to Pecson's place. Pecson groaned in frustration.

"And for all that trouble, you’re paying for everything tonight,” he demanded.

“Fine!” Tadeo tilted his chin in his attempt to be cocky. 

“You’re really going to regret this," Sandoval mouthed to Tadeo.

“Manang!” Pecson raised his plate and passed it to the lady serving food. “Can you give me a scoop of everything, please?” There were about seven pots full of different types of ulam, ranging from kaldereta to bulalo to inihaw, and this excluded the pot that was filled with rice.

“Oh, is Tadeo paying again?” Juanito grinned and raised his plate excitedly. “Aleng, kaldereta, please!”

The boys eagerly passed their plates to the end of the table, their eyes shining brighter than the fiesta lanterns that lit up the Quiapo plaza. Sandoval eventually followed and passed his plate to the front as well, but at least he had half the mind to appear as if he was hesitant about it. The only one who had not passed his plate, aside from Tadeo, was Macaraig. 

“You don’t need to pay for this one, you know.” Macaraig’s eyebrows were knit closely with concern.

“I can handle it, don’t worry!" 

Macaraig was obviously not convinced, and it showed in the food that he asked for. He only got suman, which was the least sought-after option, considering the other options available. 

The cook passed the plates back to the students, and everyone but Juanito started to dig in like they had not eaten in days. The odd one out simply stared at his plate and then looked around like he was looking for something.

“Uh, do you have spoon and fo--”

“Don't you have eyes?" Pecson spat. "Everyone’s eating with their hands.”

“I'll get rice stuck in my fingernails!"

“Don’t worry, Juanito, it’s going to be a learning experience for the both of us,” Sandoval said, but he was not doing any better. He was clawing his plate instead of actually pinching the rice that was on it.

“Ay, ay, ay." Pecson clicked his tongue. "Here, look at me. You’re supposed to gather the rice together like this…” 

Juanito grumbled and continued eating despite the rice that was falling off his mouth and sticking on his chin, his hunger taking the best of him. Meanwhile, Sandoval was looking intently at Pecson’s stubby hands as he clumped up the rice together on his plate.

“They’re so precious, they’re like children.” Macaraig smiled at them fondly, and Tadeo could not help but smile looking at him, too.

It felt like hours flew by as the group continued laughing and sharing stories to each other, their refills of rice seemingly having no end. The number of people who sat by their table decreased every time they looked back at their surroundings, and the sky had also gotten darker. Eventually, it was time for them to leave.

"Tadeo, I'll pay for this one," Macaraig said. Tadeo refused and dug through his pockets to dig up whatever cash he could find.

"Thank you for paying, Tadeo!" Sandoval beamed and clapped his hands when he saw Tadeo. Juanito at least also had the heart to thank Tadeo as well, while Pecson hummed in agreement while picking up every last morsel from his plate. Tadeo felt a finger tap on his shoulder, and he turned slightly to see Macaraig suddenly inches closer to him.

"I said let me take care of this," Macaraig repeated in a hushed voice against Tadeo's neck, and the feeling of his husky breath on his skin alone made Tadeo wanted to flip the entire table upside down from the adrenaline. He did not even realize the feeling of the cool yet warm change that was being slipped into his idle palm. 

"Oy, oy, what are you two lovebirds talking about?" _Oh God_, Tadeo didn't make a weird face, did he? 

"Talking about you," Macaraig sang with a lilted voice. Juanito was about to argue again, but Pecson cut the debacle and waved his char-stained hand frantically.

"Stop talking!" he snapped repeatedly, "She's asking for the money."

"Oh, here!" Tadeo hastily stretched out his arm to pass his payment, ignoring how his thumb got caught up on the edge of the table and nearly got ripped off from his body in the process. He thought he had seen Macaraig smile a bit when he had sat back down but he ignored it.

"Hey Pecson, do you happen to have a Physics book, the one by Ramos?" Juanito asked out of the blue.

"Ha? I don't own a Physics book. I thought you were going to borrow your classmate's." 

"I haven't seen him at all since he left in the middle of class that time..."

"Then check out the library or wherever, how should I know?" 

Tadeo was casually listening to their discussion but when he heard the word "book", he felt a little unsettled and disoriented, and... empty? Like something was missing... And then the question came to his head.

'_Did I bring Les Misérables with me?'_

Tadeo's head flared up and his hands started to grasp around the stone ground he was sitting on; he did not feel any book. He (subtly) leaned back to look at the ground behind Macaraig's back; again, no book in sight. This was bad. He did not want to risk losing such an important lucky charm to him especially when it was the book that Macaraig personally gifted him. Especially when it was a book that...

"Tadeo, are you alright?"

He laughed nervously. "Never better!" He shook his fist stiffly, looking around frantically and patting his body down to see if can feel a sturdy, rectangular object.

"I think it's going to start soon. I will go ahead, ha?" Juanito said, standing up. 

"I'll go with you!" Tadeo sprung up from his cross-legged position.

"We'll just catch up with you, then!" Sandoval waved at the two who had already quickly fled the scene briskly.

* * *

"I'm glad you're coming with me, Tadeo," Juanito said. "I can't afford to miss this show."

"Well, what are friends for?" he said in between pants as he briskly walked, looking around for the stall they were at earlier with the figurines. 

"Those guys are just so careless sometimes." Juanito clicked his tongue. "I invited them so we could watch this show and they are still taking their sweet time."

"Ah, just do what you need to do," Tadeo vaguely advised. 

Right as they walked past the center of the plaza, Tadeo recognized the stall where Macaraig bought his figurines, sticking out like a thumb as there were no more figurines on display. Ignoring Juanito's continued ranting about his friends, his legs gravitated towards the stall and left a confused Juanito calling out for him. To his dismay, the seller's greeting to him was a blunt, "Sorry, we are closed." When Tadeo asked her if she had seen a book, she shrugged and sadly pursed her lips as if she had anything to do with it. If Tadeo did not leave the book there, then he must have left it at the kalesa. Fortunately, the crowds have lessened since they first got here and he was able to recognize Macaraig's kalesa all the way at the other side of the plaza.

"Excuse me, I just need to check something," Tadeo quickly said to the cochero before climbing on the kalesa and looking through the seats. 

"What are you looking for?" His voice was low and mellow. 

"Um, my textbook!" he replied, hoping that Macaraig had not once shared a single story to his cochero about one of his members' class-cutting tendencies. "Phys, Physics... Dela Rama..."

"Oh..." he muttered, "I haven't seen anything." 

"Don't worry, uh, I can just get a new one!" Tadeo nervously laughed and nearly bumped his head on the ceiling while crawling out of the kalesa. He scooted closer to where the driver is and crossed his arms to restrain his shaking hands. "Really, it's not a big deal."

The driver looked awfully contemplative, Tadeo had thought. He was looking down on his hands which were loosely grasping on the ropes holding the horse together. He asked the cochero various questions of courtesy to keep him from falling into whatever melancholic mood he looked like he was going to slip into. He was awake enough to answer every one of this questions, like did he eat dinner ("Yes I did"), what did he have for dinner ("Bulalo"), how long had he worked for Macaraig ("Since his parents passed"), but not to the point that he shared random stories in between questions like most people Tadeo knew would do.

"Actually, señor--" 

An ear-popping gunshot and a loud thump on the ground nearby made Tadeo flinch. A horse had been shot down by a guardia civil, and from the looks of it, one of the horse's legs was horribly injured. Somehow, the people within the plaza were mostly unaware that a gun had just been shot.

"So much for taking care of the horse..." Tadeo said while scratching the inside of his ear to get rid of the ringing.

"It can't be helped. There was no point in saving the horse."

"Sorry, it's the first time I've seen a horse be put down," Tadeo said with a polite laugh. "I know it happens but I've never seen it happen."

"Well, there's a first for everybody," he remarked. 

The two men watched the scene as the horse was dragged away from the street by the cochero and other helping hands. It did not take long before everyone else carried on like normal, and they started to wash off the blood that had stained the streets. Neither of them spoke to each other for a few moments and they waited until the rest of the students came back.

"Tadeo!" He eventually saw Macaraig, Pecson, and Sandoval approach the kalesa. "Where did you go?"

"Ah, it's nothing." He hopped off the carriage to meet them halfway. "I was just feeling restless and headed back to the kalesa, is all."

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Macaraig replied sheepishly. "Pelaez won't be coming with us. He wanted to stay behind after the Sphinx exhibit." 

"It was that good?"

"I don't know." Pecson shrugged. "We weren't allowed in because we arrived a bit later than Pelaez. Sandoval managed to sneak himself in to see how it looked like but it ended shortly after."

"It was pretty cool!" Sandoval said. 

"Sandoval was very disappointed."

"Well, shall we get going?" Macaraig asked everyone, and they all started to board onto the carriage in the same seating arrangement they had.

"I never took Juanito to be very keen about magic," Tadeo mused out loud as he sat down.

"He might have been tasked to check it out himself by a professor or some curate," Pecson said from behind him. "Just like the schmoozer he is."

The cochero signaled to the horses to start walking, and the kalesa started to move, the festival music getting fainter and fainter by the second. Tadeo took one last look at all the passersby from his seat before leaving.

"So, have you started reading the book I gave you?" Macaraig asked. Tadeo did not hear him properly and just flinched when he heard the word "book". _He didn't ask if he brought the book, did he?_ Tadeo just assumed that he asked if he left it at home, and followed his lying gut.

"Yeah!"

Macaraig's eyes sparkled when Tadeo eagerly responded, which would have been a good sight in any other context but this.

"So what is it about?" 

_Oh, so that was what he asked earlier._

"It's about... miserable people in France."

"Why are they miserable?" he tilted his head.

"Who knows?" Tadeo said in a mysterious voice. "I'm not done reading. The problem is so complex the answer is not obvious past Chapter 4."

"But what is your guess?" 

_There was no stopping this man's thirst for knowledge_, Tadeo realized. Nevertheless, he pretended that he was thinking about it.

"Because... the king raised the taxes to a despicable amount!"

"Seriously?" Macaraig remarked, but he did not seem to sound disappointed, as he snickered at Tadeo's guess. Tadeo kept quiet so that he would not say anything any more incriminating against him. The lighthearted conversation was eventually cut short by a fevered demand from behind them.

"Macaraig, stop here." 

The student in question fulfilled the request and the kalesa came to a sudden halt. Pecson quickly hopped off the carriage and went straight for the stone railings, at which point Tadeo realized that they had stopped in the middle of a bridge overlooking a small artificial river. The evening breeze began to envelop the group, and the quarter moon had already emerged from the darkening sky, illuminating the water underneath. The mesmerizing sight made the group gravitate naturally towards the railings of the bridge. 

"Ah, Is there a reason why we got off here?" Tadeo looked over at Pecson and Sandoval both silently admiring the view, and then back at Macaraig, who had a nostalgic look in his eyes.

“This was the first spot Pecson visited when he arrived here in Manila for the first time. He thought this was the Pasig River,” Macaraig said. “You know, he acts like a grandpa now but when I first met him, he had the heart of a child.”

Tadeo snickered and shrugged his shoulders playfully. “Can’t blame him. Manila makes people age by twenty years."

"Whenever he needs a place to clear his mind, he goes over here to this spot," he continued. "I've spotted him here a couple time before, when we still weren't close." 

Tadeo was not one to understand what it was like to brood deeply.

"But he knows this isn't Pasig right? Why doesn't he just go there?"

“Well, Pasig River is a very busy path. The fair is still ongoing, so there’s definitely a little traffic there right now." Macaraig looked up to gaze at the glowing moon. "Besides, I think the view is more beautiful from here.” 

“... I guess you’re right," Tadeo said, noting how the moon reflected in Macaraig's eyes.

It was quiet for a moment before he spoke up again. “Thank you for looking out for everyone, by the way."

A smile tugged up Tadeo's lips. “Please, I’m not even doing anything.”

"Of course you are." Macaraig smiled gently. "I think having you around made the Association much more exciting. It has been fun having you around, and I'm sure everyone else agrees. That was why I did not want you to leave the Association." 

"After all, there's still so much you haven't shown me." 

Every fuzzy and warm feeling that had been lingering in Tadeo's chest earlier had completely dissipated by now. His self-satisfied smile disappeared from his face and he looked at him with confused and hesitant eyes. Everything began to make sense to him. Maybe he did feel a connection for Macaraig, after all, one that was beyond an amiable but distant admiration for a friend. He only realized that what he was feeling was far from a friendly affection because for once in his life, he was afraid. Afraid of disappointing someone he loves, afraid of raising expectations, afraid of making any single action that could ruin his perception of him forever. Hearing those words come out of Macaraig's mouth made Tadeo feel all the more that he had to be someone to make sure he would never leave his life, and he did not know if he was ready for it. 

"Macaraig, don't..." His name came out like a quiet plea and he held himself back by biting his lip. "I'm not the man you think I am." 

"Why do you keep saying that?" Tadeo could hear the subtle frustration in Macaraig's voice, which made him smile bitterly. He was not sure if his plan was working or backfiring. 

“I just don’t think there’s anything more to me than there is a pile of horse shit on the streets. You know me.”

"I do know you," Macaraig murmured. "And I also know that I would never take the time to talk to anyone like this if everything I would say is a lie." 

"When you put so much faith in me, I just don't know what to do." Tadeo's gaze was now pointed downwards. "I don't know what is there for me to do."

Tadeo focused onto the dry back of his palms which were grasping onto the stone railing of the bridge and sitting next to Macaraig's palms. It did not feel like a huge boulder was lifted off his shoulders after saying that, alerting Tadeo that he was once again fooling himself. He had only forgotten about the heavy feeling when Macaraig's hand closed the gap between their hands, and lightly overlapped his pinky finger on top of Tadeo's.

"Then stay." Macaraig was looking down on the moonlit river. "You would do that for me, wouldn't you?"

In Tadeo's head, he had already answered him surely, confidently, with no hint of hesitation.But in reality, Tadeo was dumbfounded. He tried to open his mouth, but nothing came out other than a sharp intake of breath that was loud enough to make Macaraig look at him. He was about to give a response until the moment of silence was broken.

"Macaraig! We're going back to the kalesa, ha?"

The two did not break away from each other's eyes . Macaraig lowered his gaze again, realizing that he would not be getting a response, and broke away from the eye contact. Tadeo found himself nibbling the inside of his lips.

"Alright!" He waited for the two to walk away before he faced Tadeo again, and his face turned pensive again.

"...We should go. It's getting late." Macaraig glanced back and forth before retracting his hand and heading back to the carriage. Once Tadeo had followed and sat again in his spot, Macaraig gave instructions to his driver to Sandoval's address.

* * *

The entire trip from Quiapo to each one of their boarding houses was completely quiet, aside from Macaraig's occasional questions of asking how everyone was doing, and everyone's greetings of farewell once they arrived at their destination. It was clear everyone was too tired to make conversation already. Pecson had even taken a nap that lasted until their arrival at Pecson's house. At that point, Tadeo felt like he wanted to go down with Pecson and walk back home when he realized he was going to be the only one left on the kalesa; just him alone with Macaraig after that really awkward conversation they had by the bridge. But he stayed still because he felt that Macaraig would have seen through his actions and dragged him back to the kalesa anyway. 

Even when it was just the two of them left, the trip was still silent. Tadeo would occasionally glance at Macaraig to see what he was doing, but he was looking at the opposite direction, focused on the stillness of Intramuros. The street lights got dimmer and dimmer the farther they went until eventually arrived at Tadeo's boarding house, and Tadeo greeted a quick good-bye quick to get off the kalesa. However, Tadeo heard footsteps following his path, and he stopped and turned around to see Macaraig walking behind him, his arms hiding behind his back.

"You don't have to come with me inside..." 

"I want to make sure you arrive in your room safely."

Tadeo nodded stiffly before continuing to walk, realizing that Macaraig, as usual, was a man that would rather do things his way. Thankfully, Tadeo did not run into his landlord as he made his way to his room, which meant that did not have to deal with a cranky old man who would chatter his ear off. However, Tadeo paused right as he pulled out his keys to unlock his room, because he had just remembered that Macaraig was still behind him this entire time. He was going to see his room. 

Tadeo's room was everything anyone he knew would expect it to be. Neglected textbooks were scattered all over the floor, his bed was in complete disarray, and his clothes were crumpled up and peppered with food stains. The only thing missing from the room would be an unidentifiable stench, but Tadeo was somehow well-kept enough to keep the room scentless. This was enough to save Tadeo's dignity a little, especially with Macaraig scanning his room.

"I'll be seeing you tomorrow? At your house?"

"I have errands so I'll be gone the whole day. But you are free to come by, as always."

Tadeo nodded slowly, but he was still confused. He was far from the door, which meant he was not going to leave anytime soon.

"If you want to keep talking, um, I'm kinda sleepy right now so..."

"Of course," he promptly replied, but he still did not move away. Before Tadeo could reiterate his phrase, he was quickly interrupted. "You forgot this."

Macaraig lifted his hand from behind him to reveal a book; the forbidden copy of Les Miserables sandwiched in his hand. It was a miracle Macaraig was able to hold the thick book so lightly in his hand like it was a sheet of paper. 

"Um..." Tadeo nervously laughed, and mumbled various excuses, about to feign his ignorance, but he thought to himself, _Forget it._ There was no point in lying. Macaraig probably knew by heart the texture of each of his books. "...How did you find it?"

"You left the book by the stall at the bazaar. That was why I had to strike conversation with the seller. My cochero held onto the book for the entire evening while waiting for us." Macaraig stretched his arm out further to bring the book closer to Tadeo, which made the latter take the book into his hands.

"Thank you."

"So what excuse do you have this time?" Macaraig asked with a sigh.

"It's..." Tadeo held the book closer to his chest. "It's my... lucky charm?"

It was not a complete lie, after all. He did think it brought fortune. But then he looked back at the events that transpired today without the book in his possession and he found that the luck rubbed off on him after all. He had a lot of fun moments with the group and he (believed he) got closer to Macaraig without the book. His reason seemed to catch Macaraig by surprise, who had blinked before snickering.

"That's a funny excuse! I would never in my life think a book like that would ever bring luck. But never mind that, you should really keep the book in your room instead for now. It's dangerous to bring a book around like that. You were lucky you didn't get caught."

Tadeo nodded obediently, which Macaraig took as a signal for him to leave. He turned around on his heel and was almost halfway out the door when Tadeo called out for him again.

"Tha-Thank you for paying dinner!" he stuttered.

Macaraig turned around to meet Tadeo's eyes and smiled. "Of course," he replied, and he softly shut the door on his way out.

Now there was no denying the fluttery feeling in his chest. Whether it was love or fear, Tadeo did not seem to know. Today was an eventful day, and that was all that mattered.

He hopped onto his bed, and despite the feeling of the hard narra surface of his bed digging against his back, he felt his body relax and lose all tension. Tadeo heard the faint sounds of marching from outside, but knowing that it was a natural occurrence for him during this time in Manila, he ignored it and he fell asleep to the cool evening breeze that was slipping through the cracks of the window panels.

* * *

The following morning, Tadeo headed straight to Macaraig's house after having eaten his breakfast, and he saw Macaraig's kalesa stationed at the front, as usual. However, as he got closer, he noticed that the cochero tending to the horses was a different man from the cochero that drove them to the Quiapo fair. When he saw Macaraig walk out of the house and about to hop on the kalesa, he went to him to ask what happened to his previous cochero.

"I was told he had to go back to his province," Macaraig replied solemnly. "That's all I know." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should probably say this about every single chapter really, but especially for this one, dont think too hard about the topography of the area. ive only set foot in manila like 5 times in my entire life
> 
> anyway im sorry this update is so long and so late, life has been a mess. see you in the next update and thank you so much for being patient with me (and pls support my macanito hateship agenda aka the two rich bitch boys of manila)


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